


Merry Witchmas

by accio_broom



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Everyone Lives/Nobody Dies, Auror Harry Potter, Auror Ron Weasley, Christmas, Christmas Fluff, F/M, Inspired by Hallmark Christmas Movies, Professor Hermione Granger, ROMioneCOM, Time Travel, experiments gone wrong
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-14
Updated: 2020-12-26
Packaged: 2021-03-11 00:15:20
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 6
Words: 24,843
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28076067
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/accio_broom/pseuds/accio_broom
Summary: After a pretty disastrous dating career, Ron Weasley has given up his chance of finding his ‘happily ever after’ until he comes across Hermione, a visitor from the past.  She has been sent into the future after one of her experiments has gone disastrously wrong and she must find her way back to her own time.  What Ron doesn't realise is that Hermione might be just the thing he's been looking for.
Relationships: Hermione Granger/Ron Weasley
Comments: 48
Kudos: 35
Collections: RomioneCom





	1. Christmas Cheer

**Author's Note:**

> AN: Because I don't currently have enough to do in my life, including trying to get a promotion in work, I decided I needed to write my version of a cheesy hallmark Christmas movie after reading zurimadison's Ottery St Christmas (also please go and check that out if you haven't already because it is AMAZING). I LOVE cheesy Christmas movies and this is inspired by a Knight Before Christmas. If it doesn't have Vanessa Ann Hudgens in it, does it even count?! I hope you enjoy it. I'm not sure when I'll be updating this as it'll fit around updates to Begin Again and my real-life responsibilities. xxx

Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry was considered to be one of the finest magical institutions in the Wizarding World. Hidden deep in the Scottish Highlands, it had existed since the 10th century and seemed to go from strengths to strengths. Children with magical abilities were enrolled automatically at birth and the school prided itself on its high acceptance of muggle-born students.

Eupraxia Mole was a forward-thinking Headmistress. When Hermione Granger graduated from the school, Headmistress Mole wasted no time in offering her a job as Potions Master. The witch had gained seven top-grade N.E.W.T's, had served as Head Girl as well as completing an impressive range of extracurricular activities. Having nowhere else to go, the young witch had accepted enthusiastically and had soon made Hogwarts her permanent home, becoming the youngest ever Potions Master in the process.

Now 28 years old, Professor Granger still had an unbridled enthusiasm for potion making and regularly sought out ways to invent new recipes or modify old ones. She worked hard to find ways to improve the lives of her students, choosing to remain single so that she could focus on her studies and her students as that was what made her the happiest.

Hermione rooted through her potions cupboard, seeking out the ingredients she needed for her latest experiment. When she was satisfied she had everything she needed, she gathered them in her arms and set them on the worktop, where a cauldron of water was already boiling away. She shivered and drew her robes tighter around her body. The wind was howling through the stone walls, turning her usually bright and warm classroom into an icebox.

Tomorrow was the last day of term and soon the students would be boarding the Hogwarts Express, making the long journey back to their families. It had been a rough term; at the end of September, a particularly virile strain of Dragon Pox had taken hold of the student population. The disease was highly contagious and in some cases, turned out to be fatal. For those that survived, the victim's skin was left pockmarked and tinged green. It meant that entire year groups had been forced to isolate in their common rooms and dormitories, and the regular trips to the local village of Hogsmeade had been cancelled until the illness had run its course. After almost three months of suffering, the morale of her students was low and she was desperate to cheer them up.

She pushed a wayward curl out of her eyes, tucking it behind her ear before rereading the recipe in front of her. She had decided to bring a little Christmas cheer to her classroom using a modified version of the Elixir to Endure Euphoria. She'd already recently learnt that adding peppermint to the potion during preparation was helpful in reducing the amount of nose-tweaking the drinker subjected to their loved ones, so she was hoping that adding mistletoe alongside the wormwood may force the drinker to sing Christmas carols.

This wasn't the first time Hermione had modified a potion from the standard curriculum provided for the children. Their textbooks had been set many moons ago by a group of stuffy old wizards and only the version numbers had been updated since. They'd neglected the fact that children needed stimulating whilst learning and that if they were having fun, they were more likely to remember the information they had piled on them. Professor Granger worked hard to make her lessons interesting, which had led to her being highly popular with her students, although the same feeling wasn't mirrored by the majority of her colleagues. Apparently, her forward-thinking was far too progressive, even for 1892.

The potion so far seemed to be going well; it was now a delightful, warm colour and she could already feel the effects of it on her mood. It reminded her of the orange she'd eaten at breakfast and her stomach growled at the memory. Her next move would be pivotal, she could either add the wormwood by itself, as was set in the recipe, and wait for the potion to turn sunshine yellow, or she could just add the mistletoe at the same time and hope for the best.

Hermione chewed her lip as she considered her options, trying her best to see what the outcome of both could be. In the end, she determined that as mistletoe was a low-risk plant, it shouldn't create any negative effect so she decided to throw caution to the wind.

"I have nothing to lose, after all. If nothing else, I'll just be happy for a few hours before the potion wears off again." The professor often talked to herself as she worked, adding to the opinions of her colleagues that she was a little bit crazy and probably not suitable for teaching at such a highly-regarded establishment.

She reached for the ingredients, ensuring she measured out the right amounts before holding them high. She held her breath, counting to five before adding both plants to the cauldron and stirring fervently. She was rewarded by her potion turning a glorious shade of gold, just like the ribbons that adorned the staircases in the castle.

"Perfect!" Hermione clapped her hands together in delight. She loved it when an experiment went right and she was excited to show her students in the morning. But first, she needed to test the results.

~*~

Meanwhile, in 21st Century London Ronald Weasley, or Ron to his friends, was just starting his day. Usually a happy-go-lucky kind of guy, he'd been working in the Department of Magical Law Enforcement at the British Ministry of Magic ever since graduating from school. He'd breezed through the three years of training, passed his probation at the top of his cohort and he was pretty sure he would be Employee of the Month every month if the department gave out such awards. It was a job he loved and it showed; his arrest numbers were high and there was almost an entire floor of Azkaban full of Dark Wizards who hated even the sound of his name.

Of course, even the best Wizards had their bad days and Ron was pretty sure he was currently suffering through 365 of them. Ever since he'd returned from his short Christmas break (only taking the days off between Boxing Day and New Year's Eve because in his own words, 'crime never takes a holiday') he'd been suffering from a string of bad luck that seemed to radiate into every aspect of his life. He had been chasing a dangerous criminal across the country without success, been on a series of awful first dates with no potential of developing anything more serious and to top it off, just last week his landlord had served notice for him to move out. He'd only been given a week to pack his things and if it hadn't been for Harry stepping in and letting him stay at an otherwise empty Grimmauld Place, he would have been homeless or worse - living back with his parents. He thought things just couldn't get any worse.

Ron strode across the Auror department, weaving his way around the desks and portable whiteboards. Aurors were notorious for being messy, preferring to set their work out in visual ways in order to try and see patterns or hidden meaning behind maps and photos so it was a mess he was used to. Someone had been into the office since he had left last night and covered every inch of it with Christmas decorations. He scowled at the tinsel and fairy lights, they only served to remind him how miserable he felt. Christmas used to be his favourite time of the year, but this year he had decided he hated every aspect of it including the cheerfulness and the singing.

He finally got to his own desk and threw himself into his chair. Unfortunately, it hadn't avoided the Christmas explosion and he cursed under his breath as he tore the decorations down and shoved them into a nearby bin.

"Alright, who was responsible for this?!" He glared around the room, almost daring someone to speak up but his colleagues only avoided eye contact with him. He swung his chair back around, preparing to start his day properly but was surprised to see Harry Potter's smiling face.

Harry had been his best friend since they met on the Hogwarts Express on their way to their first day at Hogwarts. The dark-haired wizard had been friendless and sitting in a carriage alone. Ron had an army of brothers already at the school and could have joined them further down the train but had taken pity on the skinny boy. Plus the peace and quiet was a welcome haven from the hustle and bustle he was used to at home. The boys had been glued together ever since, so it was no surprise they'd become partners after joining the department at the same time.

"It was me!" Harry raised his hand sheepishly. "You've been grumpy as Snape the past few months and I thought you could do with a little Christmas cheer. Last year, you were the epitome of Christmas; you wouldn't take that damned muggle jumper off so I thought a little bit of tinsel might get you going again…"

"Yeah, well things change Harry…" Ron picked up his case files, flicking through them in an agitated way. "Has any news come in?"

"Not yet…" Harry perched on the edge of Ron's desk. "I reckon they're waiting until just before our Christmas leave before they start causing mayhem…"

"So no sign of Masters?"

"Nothing – Neville scoped out the Hogs Head last night, but he didn't show. He was supposed to be a regular there so…" Harry trailed off with a faint shrug.

Ron sighed. "I just hoped we'd have one decent arrest this year; is that too much to ask?!"

"I'm taking it as a sign that we're just so good, Robards only just wants to assign us the tricky cases now. Either that or Azkaban is finally full and we need to wait for space before we can arrest someone and somehow the universe just knows…"

"I guess…" Ron threw the case files back onto his desk and pushed himself out of his chair. "Come on then, I guess we should review the location list again but I think I'll need a coffee before facing it!"

Harry laughed and clapped his hand on his best mate's shoulder. "That's more like it…."

~*~

"So you see Albus, although Flobberworm mucus is indeed a useful ingredient to thicken your potion, it isn't the only one. Now you better hurry before you miss the end of dinnertime." Professor Granger wrapped up the query from one of her favourite students quickly, watching the small wizard retreat back down the hallway towards the great staircase. The child was quirky, full of interesting facts and knowledge and almost wise beyond his years. He reminded Hermione of herself as a first-year and she smiled as she watched him disappear.

She had just been about to try her potion for the first time before she'd been interrupted, after decanting her cauldron and tidying up after herself. She prided herself in keeping a clean classroom, something she tried to instil in her students too. A rack of vials sat waiting expectantly on her desk, one for each of her classes tomorrow and a spare for her test. The room had turned dark, so as she walked back to her desk she lit the candles around the room with a wave of her hand.

She picked up the small vial from her desk and eyed it closely. Nothing had happened in the half-hour it had been sat waiting for her. It hadn't started increasing in volume or sparkling, as unstable potions so often did. She was pretty sure the potion was safe for consumption. With one last glance at it, she uncorked the vial and swallowed the gold liquid in one go.

At first, nothing happened and Hermione felt a surge of disappointment. She had wanted to do something nice for her students and had talked all day about the surprise she had to show them. She hated the thought of letting them down. But then the tingling started, working its way from her toes and coursing slowly up her body. It made her feel warm and as if everything in the world was going to be okay and she felt the tension fall from her shoulders as she moved to sit back at her desk to record the results. Although she hadn't started singing yet, she suspected it might start any minute.

However, before she could get herself into her seat she suddenly felt an unusual pull at her stomach, something she'd usually associate with using a Portkey. It felt as if she was slipping away and her mind flitted quickly to the list of people Headmistress Mole recited to her regularly in her attempts to discourage her from experimenting too much with magic. The events could often be disastrous, Eupraxia had often told her and Hermione almost rolled her eyes at the thought she might be right.

In a last-ditch attempt to stay where she was the Professor grasped hold of the edge of her desk tightly, her knuckles turning white with effort. With a sudden loud pop and a jingle of bells, Hermione Granger disappeared.

~*~

Ron and Harry headed towards the department exit and the elevators that would take them to the ground-floor coffee shop. Just as Ron pressed the button to call the lift, their attention was diverted by their boss calling their names. Harry sighed and turned around to see the small wizard hurrying towards them.

Word was Robards had been a top Auror in his time. Despite his stature, his duelling skills had been second to none. But now he was a paper pusher and the bane of most active Auror's lives, or so Ron thought.

"I'm glad I caught you two in time. You're currently still working on the Masters' case, right?" Robards didn't wait for an answer before continuing. "There are reports of a witch wandering around Diagon Alley, acting strange. She apparently just appeared out of nowhere, which whilst not unusual among our lot most regulars to the area use the wall at the Leaky Cauldron. Also, I'm aware that dumping women after confounding them is one of Masters' modus operandi so I think it would be useful for the two of you to pop over there, see if you can question her. You've dealt with the other victims so far…"

Ron perked up at the sound of Masters' name. This could be the lead they were waiting for.

"We're on the case, boss." He felt Harry eyeing him sceptically but he ignored it. He was desperate to get out of the office anyway. The pair changed direction, heading back to their desks to pull on the Auror issue winter uniform before heading to their designated apparition point.


	2. Comfort & Joy

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ron and Harry arrive at Diagon Alley to deal with the disturbance and Ron ends up taking on far more than he'd planned.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm so glad you guys have enjoyed this - I've loved seeing your reviews. Fills me up with Christmas spirit. Here's the second chapter. :) xxx

It had taken a few years, but Diagon Alley had finally reverted back to how it was before the war.

The streets were always bustling with shoppers and every shop had an owner again. There was an unspoken agreement that the inhabitants would ensure the street stayed brighter and cheerier than ever before, almost as if they were trying to erase the dark years previously and Christmas was no exception to this rule.

Every store was kitted out with sparkling lights, streamers and moving Christmas scenes painted in the windows. Staff were dressed as elves, Santas and fairies and Christmas songs belted out of speakers placed at the top of each lamppost. Even the light dusting of snow on the cobblestone pavement only served to make the street look more festive.

It didn't take the pair long to locate the disturbance; a large group of witches and wizards were crowded outside Weasley Wizard Wheezes. Ron threw a withering look at Harry before pressing forward through the crowd.

"Okay, okay – go back to your shopping or whatever else you were doing please everybody!" He weaved his way through the nosey shoppers, who were packed together tightly in their attempts to see what was going on. When he finally made it to the shop, he was greeted by his twin brothers, Fred and George.

"Oh look, Fred – it's the Grinch!" George Weasley held his arms out for his younger brother, a mischievous look on his face.

"It's about time you showed up Ronniekins…" Fred smirked. "Have you come to steal Christmas?"

"Shut up you two, I'm trying to work…" Ron scowled and pushed George's arms aside.

"Well, so were we but it seems our new friend has other ideas…" George nodded towards a young, bushy-haired witch who was currently pacing the small area outside the shop entrance, muttering to herself and wringing her hands. "She's scaring off our customers…"

Ron slowly approached the girl, trying to understand her incoherent babbling. She seemed distressed and was almost turning blue from the cold. Her dress, although it was floor length and buttoned to her chin, looked made out of the thinnest of materials and the robe draped over her shoulders didn't look to be much thicker. Neither item of clothing looked to be enough to protect her from the British Winter.

"You could have at least taken the poor girl inside…" Harry commented as he finally caught up with Ron.

"Oh we tried, dear brother-in-law, but she refused. She wouldn't even take the blanket we offered her. Every time we got her near to the door, she freaked out and tried to run away. The best we could do was to keep everyone away from her, just in case…"

Ron took the blanket that George held out and stepped carefully towards the witch. Now that he was closer to her, he could see that she was around his age, with olive skin and wide brown eyes that looked full of fear. For a moment, he was dumbstruck – how the hell could Masters hurt someone so small and pretty? It made his stomach churn with anger just at the thought of it.

"Hello? Uhm Miss? I'm Auror Weasley. Me and my partner Harry have come here to try and help you. Do you know your name?"

The sound of a new stranger's voice startled the witch and she stopped tracing her small path back and forth through the snow. She regarded the man briefly, a frown appearing on her face.

"Of course I know my own name!" She moved her hands to her hips, her stance wide and strong and Ron thought she could probably be a force to be reckoned with when she was in her right mind. It was striking and scary.

"And it's…?" Ron knew he was sounding impatient, but he was desperate for new information about Masters; he didn't have the time to waste on trying to persuade this witch into giving him something as simple as her name.

"It's Professor Granger if you must know."

"Okay, Professor Granger. Do you know where you are?"

The witch looked around at her surroundings, never knowing she could feel so familiar about a place and yet like she was somewhere she'd never been before.

"It looks to be Diagon Alley, but it's just not right…" She concentrated on something further up the road. "The shops aren't the right ones, there are far too many people here…"

"Well, you're right about Diagon Alley at least. Do you want this blanket? You look cold." Ron offered the blanket to Professor Granger, who eyed it suspiciously for a moment before taking it gratefully and wrapping it around her shoulders. Ron started wandering back towards Harry.

"Maybe she's been confounded. It's a common side-effect of the curses Masters likes to use. We should probably take her in?"

"Take me where?!" Professor Granger started to back away from the two Aurors, looking startled once again.

"Miss… I mean, Professor Granger, please calm down…" Harry drew his wand, hoping that the sight of it would be enough to placate her but instead it had the opposite effect. Before he knew it, the witch had drawn her own wand and was continuing her retreat from the pair.

"I… I need to get back to Hogwarts. I have classes to teach in the morning. I must go…"

The witch turned quickly on the spot in an attempt to apparate back to where she came from but instead of disappearing, a gash of blood appeared on her uncovered lower arm.

"Shit… she's splinched herself…" Ron shot forward quickly, managing to grab the witch before she hit the floor. "We better get her to St. Mungo's…"

Harry nodded to confirm he'd heard Ron. He made sure he had a firm grip on the two of them before turning carefully on the spot and apparating them directly to the magical hospital.

When Hermione finally woke up, she was lying in a single, narrow bed and covered in a crisp sheet. She spotted her dress and robes folded neatly at the end of the bed and panicked briefly before realising she'd been dressed in a scratchy short gown. She tentatively lifted her arm and was relieved to find it hadn't been tied down, although it throbbed greatly under the white bandage covering it. Slowly, she tested her other limbs and, satisfied that she wasn't being held captive, she finally let out a small sigh. The last thing she needed right now was to be held as a prisoner.

Above her head hovered a bright light, stronger than anything magical she was used to. Staring at it too long made her eyes burn, but yet she was strangely attracted to it. She wanted to learn all about the magic that created such a bright glow. She eventually turned her head when it's glare got too much and was startled to see a lanky, ginger man with a thick auburn beard sat in the chair next to her bed.

"Oh hullo, you're awake finally!" The man gave her a warm smile, although it did nothing to make Hermione feel better. He was wearing what looked to be a military uniform unlike anything she'd seen before, and the top buttons of his robes were undone. He didn't even seem to be wearing a tie and his outdoor robes were flung haphazardly on the chair beside him. Hermione felt a bit startled, but also curious as to what sort of place she'd ended up in where the men dared to dress so casually, especially in front of a woman.

"Who are you? Where am I?" She tried to sit up and immediately regretted her decision as the room started spinning. She fought desperately against the rising urge to vomit, taking a few deep breaths to try and calm her stomach but it was no good. Luckily, the man seemed to realise she was fighting a losing battle against her nausea and a paper bowl was thrust into her hands time in time to catch the results.

As soon as she finished throwing up, the man lifted his wand and vanished it. It was almost like nothing had happened, at least to him. Hermione felt the hot burn of shame creep up her face and she forced her eyes open again, her cheeks burning bright red.

"I'm ever so sorry…" She avoided eye contact with him as she wiped her mouth with the edge of the sheet on her bed.

"Oh don't worry about it…" The man waved a hand dismissively. "At least you got it all in the bowl. You wouldn't believe the number of times I've been thrown up on and it takes forever to get vomit out of the uniform! I'm Ron, by the way…"

He leaned forward and offered Hermione his hand. Hermione eyed it suspiciously before realising she was being incredibly rude, especially as so far, he'd been incredibly helpful. She placed her hand in his and shook it loosely. He looked friendly enough, she thought, although she had always been suspicious of an unfamiliar man acting pleasant with her; in her limited experience, it usually meant they were after something.

"You were in quite a stat when we got to you. I take it you're not from around here?"

"It depends where here is…" Hermione answered dryly as she sat back in the bed. "I'm almost certain I was in Diagon Alley. It seemed so familiar to me but yet nothing was right. I only visited just before school started, surely it couldn't have changed that much in the matter of a few months?"

"When you say school; do you mean Beauxbatons? Or perhaps Ilvermorny?"

Hermione scoffed at Ron's ridiculous question. Although she had heard of those schools, she also knew that they were far away and international travel was rare, even for witches and wizards. Why would she be in London if she lived abroad?

"No, of course not. I teach at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. I'm the potion master. Why would I be from anywhere else?"

"Well, that's the question isn't it?" Ron scratched his chin thoughtfully. "My partner got in touch with Hogwarts and all their staff have been accounted for, even Snape…" Hermione thought she spotted an ugly sneer flit across Ron's face but it soon disappeared.

"Harry even checked specifically for a Professor Granger but the last time someone of that name taught at the school was in 1892, although apparently she vanished in peculiar circumstances."

Hermione felt her stomach take a nose-drive and for a moment, she thought she was going to be sick again. So her potion had misfired and the results were absolutely catastrophic. But what did that mean for her? If there was no evidence of her after 1892, did that mean she was dead? Was she a ghost right now? Hermione shook the absurdity out of her head. Dead people don't throw up or lie in hospital beds talking to incredibly casually dressed men. What was going to happen to her?

She felt her breath catch in her throat. Ron was still speaking, but she couldn't hear what he was saying over the sound of her blood rushing through her ears. She couldn't breathe and if she weren't already dead, she was pretty sure she was now on her way to those pearly gates. Did witches even get to go to heaven?!

"It's okay, it's going to be fine. I'll sort this out, I promise!" For the second time in less than 10 minutes, Ron realised something was wrong with Hermione. He conjured a paper bag out of nowhere and passed it to her. "Take deep breaths…"

She did as she was told, counting each breath as she held the bag over her mouth. Soon enough she found herself calming down and Hermione wondered if Ron had a second career as a healer. It took her a while, but Hermione finally sunk back into the bed although when she let the paper bag drop to her side, Ron spotted a tear tracing its way down her cheek.

"What happened to me? If this is not 1892, then when is it?" She turned her head back towards Ron.

"Well, that's the thing. You just appeared in Diagon Alley. According to my brothers, you took one look around then started to panic: grabbing shoppers off the street and yelling weird questions at them. Also, it's 2008; although there's not much of the year left."

Suddenly Hermione started to remember her behaviour in the street and her cheeks once again grew bright red in shame. A moment of realisation hit her and Ron could see it travel over her face.

"I was in my potions room; I was trying to create a Christmas present for my students. Tomorrow is the last day of school you see, or it was…" She paused briefly as if to think then shook the thought out of her head. "They've had a rough year. I wanted to make them a Cheering potion and of course, I had to try it on myself first – I can't just give untested potions to the children…"

"Of course not…" Ron almost flinched at the scowl Hermione threw at him as he dared to interrupt her.

"Then Albus came to see me. Oh, he's such a lovely student. He's going to be so upset when he hears the potion didn't go as planned." She sighed heavily. "I drank the vial in one go and then all of a sudden, I was in Diagon Alley and well, you know the rest. I really need to get back home. It's Christmas and I'll be missed. I don't even know where to start though…"

Ron eyed Hermione thoughtfully. Maybe this was the distraction from his casework he needed. He was getting nowhere with them, so maybe he needed to reset his brain. After a break, he might be able to see them from a different angle and make headways on them. Maybe even Hermione will be able to help him, the girl seemed intelligent enough. He nodded to himself then started to get out of his chair.

"I said I'll help you and I'm a man of my word. Why don't I go and see if you can be discharged?" He started to leave the cubicle but stopped at the curtain surrounding the bed.

"This might seem a little weird, and I promise I have no ulterior motives but since you don't have anywhere else to go, do you want to stay at my place? There's an inn at the end of Diagon Alley, but chances are the rooms will be fully booked. If you don't want to then perhaps I can find you a muggle hotel; or see if mum and dad or Harry will take you…"

Hermione watched as the tips of Ron's ears turned pink. The sight forced a small smile on her face. He was currently the only person she knew in this world. Others in her position would probably run a mile but there was something about him that she found quite intriguing. His eyes were sincere and it made her want to put her faith in him completely. Pushing aside her immediate concerns at how improper it would be, reminding herself she was in a different time to hers, she nodded.

"As long as it won't be an inconvenience to you."

"Not at all. Harry has a house in central London and I'm currently staying there. Truth be told, it's a little lonely rattling around there by myself. He lives with my sister in Holyhead. They're married…" Ron wasn't sure why he added the last sentence, but he felt that it would be important to Hermione. "I can even give you your own room with a lockable door if that would make you feel safer…"

"Surely the alohomora charm hasn't gone out of fashion already?!"

"Of course not…" Ron's friendly smile grew almost lopsided and Hermione was surprised to feel her heart skip a small beat, although she put it down to the aftereffects of splinching herself. "I promise you I won't use it though…" He made the sign of a cross over his heart, which Hermione found quite peculiar before leaving the cubicle.

Hermione sat back again, watching the bustling hospital ward through the gap in the curtains. A grey-haired wizard walked past, only inches from the curtain at the edge of her bed and stopped for a moment, staring back in at her. He was tall, thin, and very old looking, with silver hair and a beard so long it almost touched the floor. His blue eyes were piercing, almost forcing her to look away, but they had a familiar mischievous twinkle in them. Hermione immediately felt that she knew this wizard, but before she could even think about how, the wizard had disappeared again and Hermione was left alone. She stared at the place where he stood until Ron finally returned.


	3. The Christmas Castle

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ron takes Hermione to visit an old friend.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> In just over an hour, we're being put back in lockdown, destroying all of our Christmas plans. So I've spent most of this evening writing and fine-tuning this chapter. I hope you enjoy it and I hope if you're in any sort of lockdown that you're doing okay. As always, thank you for your reviews; please continue to leave them - they make me happy xxx

It hadn't taken long for Ron to get Hermione discharged from St. Mungo's Hospital. Her splinching wounds were not serious and Ron was warned that he just had to keep an eye on her overnight in case of concussion. As the healer had gone through the protocols, Hermione had thrown him a look as if to dare him to try and check in on her, causing him to chuckle softly. She was definitely feisty.

Once she had dressed (with Ron stood outside the curtain, holding onto it tightly to prevent any peeping Toms), he'd walked with her to the apparition point and apparated her carefully to the front doorstep of Grimmauld Place. He was suddenly grateful for the months of work they had put into making the house liveable after the war. They'd stripped the wallpaper, removed the family tree, and replaced the fabric on the furniture, doing it all by hand the muggle way in a final 'fuck you' to Walburga Black and the legacy of the 'Noble and Most Ancient House of Black'. The house was now fresh and bright and the picture of the Black matriarch that used to hang at the end of the hallway was finally removed by the help of Kreacher, the house-elf.

Ron shuddered to think what Hermione's impression of him might have been if he'd had to invite her into the old version of the house. Still, it felt a bit awkward as he ushered her inside; she was still a stranger to him and he didn't know what boundaries she may have yet.

"You must be hungry…" Ron shifted nervously from foot to foot in the hallway, looking anywhere but at the small brunette stood in front of him. "I know it's late but I don't mind throwing something together…"

"Actually, I'm still feeling a bit nauseous. Do you mind if I just go to bed?" Hermione gave him a small smile.

"No that's fine… I'll show you to the second-best room in the house…" He led her straight to the stairs and up to the second floor, guiding her into the bedroom next to his. He'd made the decision to put her in this room while they were still at the hospital. While he was sure she could look after herself, he wanted to be on hand in case she needed him during the night.

He was thankful that the house still used old gas lamps, which ignited automatically as they entered the room. He was too tired to explain how the electric lights worked. He double checked that she was happy with the room before leaving her to get acquainted with it while he found something for her to sleep in. He came back to the room after settling on a pair of clean pyjamas and held them out sheepishly to her.

"I don't know what you sleep in when you're home, but hopefully these are comfortable for you…" He was relieved when she took them with a smile.

"You've been so kind to me, yet you hardly know me…" She placed the pyjamas on the bed and turned back to look at him.

Ron shrugged, the tips of his ears turning pink again. "I wouldn't want to see anyone left out in the cold, especially at Christmas…"

"Yes, I noticed the house was rather bereft of decorations. Do you not celebrate here?"

"Nah not really…" Ron looked away and Hermione noted he seemed to be dealing with something personal to him. She decided not to push it any further tonight, although she made a mental note to try and find out more if she could. Something about this man intrigued her, she had never met anyone quite like him and in the short amount of hours that she'd known him, she found herself desperate to learn everything about him.

"Well, thank you. I'll see you in the morning I guess…"

Ron nodded. "I'm just next door if you need anything. Good night, Hermione…" He left her alone, not even smiling as he heard the lock turn in the door once it was closed. He debated going straight to bed, but decided he better update Harry. He popped into the study, sending his best friend a quick owl before finally getting into his own bed. He fell asleep as soon as his head hit the pillow, the stressful day finally catching up with him.

Ron was woken early the next morning to the sound of the television blaring out from the living room, which happened to be directly underneath his bedroom. He cursed the Kreacher loudly. Sometimes he knocked the remote controls as he cleaned and it wasn't the first time he'd been woken this way. He hated mornings, especially when he'd been yanked so rudely from his sleep. He pulled his dressing gown over his bare arms, neglecting to tie it as the waist as he shoved his feet into his slippers and stormed down the stairs, ready to berate the poor house-elf.

He stormed into the living room, his face clouded in annoyance but stopped suddenly in his tracks as he was presented with a panicked Hermione, frantically pointing her wand at the television. In his half-asleep state, he'd forgotten that the witch was staying with him.

"Hermione? What's going on?"

Hermione spun quickly around at the sound of Ron's voice, about to demand how to work this magical talking box when she caught sight of his state of undress. His chest was bare, revealing a set of hard muscles laced with various scars with a glimpse of auburn hair just peeking over the waistband of his old pyjama bottoms. They were slung low on his hips and Hermione found herself heating up as she imagined what she might find under the material, not that she was very well versed in the ways of men. Everything she knew she'd learnt from books, including the couple of soft pornographic novels she had hidden away in her chambers at the castle. She turned back quickly lest the look on her face gave her away, covering her ears with her hands as her cheeks burned bright red.

"I pressed something and now this strange box won't stop making noise! It's so loud. Tell me how to make it stop!"

Ron had felt her eyes burning into him, biting back a swear word as he realised why she'd reacted the way she did. It had been a long time since he'd shared a house with a woman and he had no experience of Victorian witches to boot. He often lazed around the house in various states of undress; Kreacher had no shame and didn't care what he saw. Still, he felt himself feel strangely proud of Hermione's reaction and he resisted the urge to try and push her further. Once he was sure he was covered up, he reached past her to take the TV remote off the side of the sofa, turning the television off with a quick click. He breathed a sigh of relief as the room went quiet.

"What in Merlin's deepest circle of hell was that? I've never seen that kind of magic before…" Hermione started inspecting the box, pulling at the wires that connected it to the wall.

Ron let out a groan and walked out of the room, deciding it was far too early to deal with this. He needed coffee before he started explaining the ins and outs of muggle electricity to her. He flicked the kettle on and leaned against a counter, watching as she followed him into the room.

"Are you some kind of magical genius or something?" Hermione crossed her arms over her small frame and Ron took the moment to appreciate how she looked wearing his pyjamas. Her wild curls crackled with electricity and he was once again given a glimpse of how scary she could be. He took a bit longer to admire her before making eye contact with her and turning away again.

"No, I wish…" Ron chuckled to himself as he made them both a coffee. "It's a muggle invention. It uses electricity; Harry and I wired the place up when we moved in. The previous owners would have hated it; they were strict purebloods. The thought made us so happy, we may have ended up going a little overboard." He passed her a mug then started to make their breakfast.

Ron fast realised that spending time with a witch from the Victorian era would quickly prove to be more complicated than he first thought it would be. He had to explain everything in the house to her; she'd gasped in amazement as he'd opened the fridge door to get out some milk and it took almost twenty minutes to explain the bowl of Frosties he'd put in front of her. He suddenly had a deeper appreciation towards muggle-born wizards and witches and especially for Harry; who'd had to explain everything muggle to him over the years.

After breakfast, Ron gathered up the dishes and called Hermione to the sink, keen to show her how the hot water tap worked in the hope she would volunteer to do the washing up, a task he always hated. He was probably standing a little too close to her as he showed her how she could adjust the taps to get the water to the right temperature but he just couldn't resist the pull of her. He was oblivious to Harry and Ginny's appearance in the house until his brother-in-law cleared his throat.

"Good morning!" Harry threw an amused smile at Ron as he sat himself down at the table.

"Oh morning! I didn't realise you'd be here so early…" Ron turned suddenly, taking a step away from Hermione in the process. He immediately felt the loss of her by his side, although he didn't get long to examine that feeling.

"Obviously! We brought Hermione some clothes..." He pulled a bag out of his pocket and tapped it once with his wand to enlarge it. He pushed it towards their new friend before nodding towards his wife. "Professor Granger, this is my wife Ginny…"

Hermione watched as the petite ginger girl stepped towards her and immediately felt a warmth. She was very similar to her brother, although a lot smaller in size and she took the offered hand with a smile.

"It's really nice to meet you, Ginny!"

"It's nice to meet you too. I couldn't resist coming along when Harry said he was visiting; I just wanted to meet the witch from the past! Unfortunately, I can't stay long…" Ginny let go of Hermione and moved back to stand behind Harry, her hands resting on his shoulders. "I have training in an hour. We just dropped James off at Mum and Dad's and we thought we'd pop by…"

"Actually, I'm glad you're here Gin…" Ron plastered his biggest smile on to his face and Ginny knew he was after something. "Hermione might need…uh… a shower and she'll need someone to show her how to work it. I thought it would be more appropriate if you did it…"

"Oh of course…" Ginny kissed the top of Harry's head then lifted the bag of clothes off the table. She led Hermione away from the kitchen, chattering away with her as if they'd always been friends.

Ron watched them go then slumped back in his chair, rubbing his forehead. It felt like he'd been awake for hours already and it was barely 9 o'clock. He watched as Harry made more coffee with a flick of his wand.

"How's it been?" Harry threw his friend a concerned look.

"It's hard work! At first, I thought she'd definitely been confounded but seeing how she's reacting to everything around the house, I'm starting to believe she may actually be from the past. I'll have to write to Robards and ask for an extra day off so I can help her work out how to get back…" Ron scowled as Harry raised his eyebrows. "What?!"

"Nothing…" Harry smirked into his coffee cup. "You just seem very familiar with her already and you rarely take time off."

"I just feel bad for her, that's all. Time travel is difficult at the best of times and it must be worse if you're not expecting it!"

"Sure…" Harry's smirk grew wider. "So have you got a plan?"

"Well, I was thinking maybe to start at Hogwarts. She's adamant that's where she used to work and maybe someone up there can help us? She says she used to be the potion master, so if I have to I'll just speak to Snape…"

Harry shuddered at the sound of the name. "Well, good luck. I'm going to head into work, so let me know if there's anything you want me to look up…"

"Cheers mate…" The conversation soon changed to Ginny's next Quidditch game, which was fast coming up. The Boxing Day derby was always a notorious match-up, and this would be no exception. The entire cup was resting on the scores from the game.

It didn't take long for Ginny to join them again, followed by a rather hesitant Hermione. The youngest Weasley had persuaded her to swap her prim black robes for a pair of jeans and an oversized jumper. Ron could hardly believe the change in the witch. She looked brighter, especially with her hair washed.

"Right, it's time for us to go sweetheart…" Ginny headed back over to Harry and took his hand, pulling him up from where he sat. They quickly said their goodbyes, with Ginny promising to spend more time with Hermione before apparating away from Grimmauld Place.

Hermione smiled nervously as she was left alone with Ron, pulling the jumper down and over her body more. She had never worn trousers like this before; she usually favoured long dresses and skirts over the fashionable pantaloons, which were loose and usually covered with a skirt to protect the wearer's modesty but she could see why women now preferred these denim jeans, as Ginny had called them. She felt free to do whatever she needed to do, without having to worry about a sudden gust of wind blowing her dress up. The 'jumper' was cosy and warm and Hermione found it comforting.

"Feeling a bit better now?" Ron smiled as he poured Hermione another cup of coffee.

"Yes, actually. Those showers are fantastic things, although I'm afraid I had to borrow some of your…" Hermione searched for the right word in her head. "Shower gel? Ginny laughed and said I smelt like a man…"

"Better than smelling like a dung bomb, not that you did before of course…" Ron blushed bright red as he passed Hermione her mug. "I'm just going to go and grab my own shower…" Suddenly he was desperate to leave the room before he made a fool out of himself. "Feel free to explore the house…"

Ron left Hermione quickly, leaving her feel a little perplexed. She shrugged it off and sipped from her mug as she moved from room to room, glancing in each one briefly before moving on to the next. She finally found one that garnered her interest, and she moved further into it so she could explore it properly.

It didn't take Ron long to sort himself out and he came back downstairs, searching for Hermione. He finally found her browsing the shelves in the library.

"Ah, you found the books…" Ron leaned against the doorframe as he watched her. She turned suddenly, a book in her hand, and gave him a warm smile.

"Yes… books are fantastic although where I'm from we can usually only read during the daylight unless you have a really strong oil lamp. We've just started to get more printed books into the library at Hogwarts. I can't believe the collection you have here…" She closed the book and slid it carefully back into its rightful place. "There's never been a problem that hasn't been solved by finding the answer in a book. Although I haven't seen a title in here that may help me…"

Ron smiled and headed further into the library, scratching his head slightly. "I don't even think I've been in this room since we redecorated. I thought it might be good for us to go to Hogwarts if you think you'll be okay there. It'll be different from the castle you're used to…"

Hermione considered the offer briefly before nodding. "Yes, that seems logical. How will we get there though? The castle didn't allow people to apparate directly in…"

"And that hasn't changed. Are you okay to get yourself to Hogsmeade? We can walk in from there…"

She found herself agreeing, although in times gone by she wouldn't dare to visit the village with a man without being escorted by an elder. She felt a thrill of electricity coarse through her body at how daring she was acting and she found herself gravitating back towards Ron as they agreed on an apparition point to take.

10 minutes later and the pair landed in the wizarding village, barely noticed by the crowds of Christmas shoppers. The snow had been falling fast up here for the last few days, but luckily Ginny had thought to pack Hermione a coat with a matching scarf, gloves and hat set to keep her warm. Still, she shivered in the cold air as they started to walk towards the school.

"I forgot how cold it gets up here in the winter!"

"Me too, actually. It's like its own mini climate. Traveling between Hogwarts and Devon, where my parents live, always gave me a shock!" Ron laughed and pushed at the gates but frowned as he noticed Hermione wasn't by his side. She had stopped five feet away and was staring up at the castle. "You okay?"

"It's like it hasn't changed in all these years, but yet parts of this building look newer than the rest…"

Ron followed her gaze thoughtfully. "You're very observant. It took us a while after the war to rebuild it and we tried our best to make it look the same, but it's hard to make new look hundreds of years old, even with glamour charms and other magic."

"What war?" Hermione tore her gaze from the castle to look at Ron who didn't look back at her, instead his eyes fixed on the figure who had just appeared at the entrance.

"A bad war, I'll tell you about it later. It seems someone was expecting us…"

Hermione felt Ron place his hand on the small of her back as he guided her down the path. The grey-haired wizard gave them a small wave and a friendly smile as they approached.

"I had a feeling you two would be visiting me today… I assume this is Professor Granger?" The man regarded Hermione closely and without waiting for her to confirm, he continued speaking. "Yes, that's right. Exactly as you were before. I'm the Headmaster here; Professor Dumbledore…"

Hermione looked up at the elderly man, immediately recognising him from yesterday. She let out a small gasp. "You were at the hospital yesterday. You visited my bed, although you didn't talk to me…"

Dumbledore's brow furrowed in a frown, although his blue eyes sparkled with mischief. "I can assure you that was not me. I am an extremely busy man and spent most of yesterday afternoon helping Professor McGonagall persuade Peeves to stop bewitching the mistletoe. Just because the children have gone home, it doesn't mean the staff are allowed to get up to shenanigans, not that they need his help of course. I am a brilliant wizard, no doubt about it, but even I cannot be in two places at once. Now if you two would follow me to my office, we'll see what I can do for you…"

Ron threw Hermione a look once Dumbledore's back was turned and grinned as she let out a small, nervous laugh. He dropped his head close to her as they followed him in.

"He's harmless I promise…" His hand regained it's reassuring position at the small of her back as they followed him up the grand staircase to his office, taking a seat when told to do so. The headmaster offered them both a sherbet lemon, which they politely declined.

"So tell me what happened…"

Hermione noticed that Dumbledore had a way about him that made it very easy to trust him. She started to tell him the story, noticing with a fond smile the ease in which Ron made contributions when it was needed. It was like they had always worked together and felt perfectly natural to her.

"So you see Headmaster, we were just wondering if you had any idea of how I could get back to my own time?"

"Well, experimenting with magic is very dangerous. Without being able to see the exact potion you drank myself, I'm not sure how useful my advice will be…"

"I'm sorry, I didn't think to stash a vial in my robes before I was whisked away from the 1890s…" Hermione flopped back in her seat, looking forlorn with her arms crossed tightly over her body, her lips tightly pursed.

Anyone else would feel upset by the tone Hermione had taken with him, but not Professor Dumbledore. Instead, he chuckled softly before helping himself to another sweet. He sucked thoughtfully at it and Ron thought Hermione might burst with impatience.

"I see time travel hasn't dampened your spirit, Miss Granger." He sat up straighter. "Might I suggest that if you were looking to create Christmas Cheer among your students with your potion, then maybe helping find someone who needs a little Christmas Cheer here may help you find your way home?" He gave the pair a smile that infuriated Hermione, yet amused Ron.

"Now I'm afraid I have a staff meeting to hold; it is the Christmas holidays after all and I need to congratulate my faculty on surviving another term without any major disasters…"

Ron and Hermione thanked Dumbledore before starting to make their way back out of the castle. Once they were back out in the grounds, Hermione let out a frustrated groan; kicking at a rock that dared to be in her way.

"Well, that wasn't helpful!"

Ron stopped walking and watched her, feeling amused. Hermione's outburst was surprising, yet he knew this wasn't the worst she could do. He reminded himself that she wasn't used to the strange ways of Albus Dumbledore. He placed a hand carefully on her shoulder and continued walking up the path with her.

"The man has always been cryptic; I think he gets some sort of sadistic joy from it. He didn't help us during the war, even though he made it clear we needed to get involved with it. He just laid a stupid trail of clues that Harry and I tried our best to work out. We almost failed and for a moment, we thought Harry died. It was down to pure luck that we won in the end, and the fact Neville is surprisingly good with a sword…"

This was the second time Ron had mentioned this war and she couldn't help but pry further. "Tell me about the war, it sounds awful."

"Well, it's a bit of a story…" He removed his hand from her shoulder and tugged his hat further down on his head. "So there once was a Dark Lord called Voldemort, although he used to be called Tom Riddle. He was an awful wizard, not very nice. He tried to kill Harry when he was a baby because of a prophecy he'd overheard one day. Anyway, Harry's parents were killed but because they sacrificed themselves to protect Harry, Harry the baby was protected and Voldemort's killing curse backfired. It didn't kill him, unfortunately, but it made it very tricky for him to do anything and he was forced into hiding. Noticed Harry's scar on his forehead?" He smiled as Hermione nodded.

"That's Voldie's doing… Anyway, skip to 11 years later and Voldemort is back with vengeance. He tried every single year we were in school to kill Harry, but we managed to stop him. It's quite laughable looking back really. This supposed amazing dark wizard – so awful he was compared to Hitler – thwarted by two teenagers and their friends time and time again."

"Who is Hitler?" Hermione frowned.

"Some muggle, it doesn't matter." They made their way up the long drive and down towards the village. "By the end of our 6th year, the threat became too much. Dumbledore discovered Voldemort had been making Horcruxes so started a mission to destroy them but conveniently got ill, leaving Harry and me to deal with the rest of them. We got down to the last one and there was an almighty showdown in May, about 10 years ago now, and Harry finally killed Voldemort. At the end of it all, Dumbledore just comes strolling back to the castle as if nothing happened!"

"Wow…" Hermione raised her eyebrows. "That's… immense. And he was just happy to let children fight the war for him?!"

"Well, there were adults there too. My mum and dad came with the rest of the Order of the Phoenix. The Auror department and the ministry workers who were on the good side. The teachers too."

Hermione searched for a response but she was too dumbfounded at Ron's story to answer him again. Her brow furrowed in concentration as they made it to Hogsmeade and she was so distracted by her thoughts, she didn't even notice the changes that had taken place in the village since she'd last been there.

"Dumbledore looked so familiar to me. I could have sworn he was the man who was at the hospital yesterday. Although, I recognised him from before then…"

Ron shrugged as he avoided a shop worker dressed as an elf giving out candy canes. He took a moment to survey the Christmas decorations, realising he hadn't been as annoyed at them as he was yesterday.

"The man gets everywhere; I wouldn't be surprised if he was there you know…"

They were interrupted by the sudden appearance of Harry and Ginny, now with a small child in tow. The child grinned up at Ron, glee in his eyes and flung himself at his legs.

"Hermione, this is James Potter; my favourite nephew!" Ron started to tickle the boy, who erupted into fits of giggles. He was obviously very good with kids and watching how he interacted with him distracted Hermione from her troubling thoughts.

"We can't stay long, we just picked up this pain in the backside from his grandparents and we just needed to pick up a few last-minute things before S-A-N-T-A comes tomorrow night!" Harry laughed as he took his now squirming son back from Ron. "Your mum told us to remind you about the dinner tomorrow. We'll see you there, yeah?" The small family left as quickly as they appeared, leaving Ron groaning in despair.

"I fucking forgot about the bloody dinner!"

Hermione flinched when she heard Ron use the vulgar f-word; appalled to hear it used so casually. She tried her best to regain her composure, reminding herself that if fashion was different in this time, then maybe language had progressed too.

"What dinner?"

"The Minister for Magic holds a Christmas Eve dinner every year to benefit the funds that are helping Wizards and Witches most affected by the war you know, orphaned children, people who lost loved ones or their homes or just anyone who may be struggling at the moment. The muggle economic downturn is really affecting us too. Mum likes to get the whole family involved and I was supposed to be providing the bloody dessert…"

Hermione watched him thoughtfully. The Weasley family definitely sounded lovely and Ron had been really helpful already. She was keen to do what she could to help them out and she really wanted to meet the rest of his family, especially his parents. They seemed like truly a heroic couple.

"Well, it's lucky you ran into someone good at reading a recipe. And I happen to be a dab hand at baking too! Come on, let's go!"

She surprised Ron by taking hold of his hand and starting to pull him back towards the apparition point. He let her guide him, focussing on the pleasant feeling of how her hand fitted in his and tried to push the ridiculous notion that they were made for each other out of his head; stuff like that only happened in movies, after all.


	4. The Muppets Christmas Carol

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ron takes Hermione on her first Tesco experience then shares his favourite Christmas movie with her. Hermione gets close to learning why Ron doesn't like Christmas.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm so happy you're still enjoying this. I am completely winging it, so if something doesn't match up or plot points are a bit loose; well just put it down to the magic of Christmas!! Luckily, work is quiet this week so I'm going to take advantage and use the time to finish this and BA, hopefully by Christmas day but we'll see! Anyway, I hope you enjoy this chapter too! :-)

Ron was used to going to the supermarket - it was something he did almost once a week, although he usually hated it. He felt it a waste of his time and he disliked having to mingle with everyone. It didn't matter what time he chose to go; it was always busy. Nevertheless, if they wanted to ensure they had enough desserts for the dinner tomorrow; they needed ingredients.

He let go of Hermione's hand as they landed in a grim-looking alleyway behind the local Tesco's, forgetting for a moment she had never seen one before. Ron checked that nobody was looking before stepping out to the front of the store.

"So this is the place you go to get your produce?! It's huge – how do you need all this food?" Hermione took a few steps back from the store entrance to gaze up at it, almost getting hit by a car in the process. Her attention was distracted momentarily by the sound of the vehicle's horn blaring as she watched the driver pull away, making an obscene gesture with his hand as he did. "What kind of metal beast is that?!"

"They're called cars and they really hurt if they run you over, even if they're going slow…" Ron stuck his middle finger up at the driver then firmly looped his arm around Hermione's shoulder, almost protectively.

"Fascinating…" Hermione leaned into his grip; her heartbeat speeding up at the realisation of how close he was stood to her. His scent was strange, quite earthy, and manly and she suspected he used an artificial perfume. It wasn't unpleasant, she decided, just something she wasn't used to. "I've heard of automobiles, although not many people own one in my time. They're very expensive but yet, so many people have one…" She glanced around at the busy car park.

"Well, they're fairly common now, although still quite expensive. I don't see the point myself; I prefer to apparate but I can see how they're useful to muggles." He reluctantly withdrew his arm to take a trolley, placing both of her hands firmly on the handle. "Keep hold of that and don't let go…"

Ron grinned as he led her into the store. It was busier than usual, full of muggle shoppers desperately looking for last-minute presents and food. Although he was never great at planning, he was still surprised at how late muggles like to leave their Christmas shopping. Maybe they liked the thrill of potentially not being able to get what they needed; Merlin knows they didn't have a lot of things to enjoy in their lives.

What should have been a quick 20-minute dash around the shop took Ron and Hermione over an hour. Hermione was like a Crup puppy - she was interested in everything they walked past and had to pick each item up, eyeing it excitedly before bombarding Ron with a reel of questions about it. She needed to know everything and could sense when he was trying to fob her off with a half-hearted response. At one point, whilst he was distracted working out whether he wanted to buy rum or brandy, she had wandered off and Ron felt his stomach drop as he turned back to the trolley to find her missing; only to locate her moments later at the cheese counter, sampling everything they had to offer and marvelling at the amount of choice.

Eventually, they managed to get enough ingredients to make Christmas puddings for the thousands, not just the 30 odd people they were expecting tomorrow. As they walked together towards the tills, Ron dropped his head low towards Hermione's ear.

"Just be careful what you're saying in front of the cashier, yeah? We don't want to raise suspicions. Save your questions for afterwards and I promise I'll answer every one of them…"

"Properly?" An unfamiliar sensation prickled the back of her neck as she felt his hot breath on her ear.

"I promise…" Ron gave her a reassuring smile before starting to load their items onto the conveyor belt. He tasked her with packing the bags, which she did so enthusiastically. A couple of times she got distracted by the tills, almost throwing the questions at Ron before remembering his promise and clamming shut. At one point, her thought she was biting her tongue to stop the question exploding from her mouth, causing the cashier to throw a judgemental look towards her.

"She just really loves Christmas, okay?" He thrust the muggle money towards the assistant and helped Hermione to load the bags into the trolley before guiding her back out of the store, his arm once again thrown protectively over her shoulder. He wasn't sure where this urge to defend her came from but he'd actually enjoyed shopping for once, fuelled by her unadulterated excitement of learning about everything and it had almost made him feel cheerful.

He abandoned the trolley at the edge of their alleyway, lifting the bags one by one and shrinking them down before shoving them in his pockets. "That's better…" He smiled at her. "Come on then, we better get back and start baking. Do you think you can apparate yourself?"

Hermione pondered his question. His arm had felt nice around her shoulder and she shook her head. She craved his touch again and knew how to get it. "No, not yet, can you do it?" She gave Ron her sweetest smile and was rewarded by him grinning and giving her exactly what she wanted. She leaned into him as he apparated them back Grimmauld Place.

The house was already warm and cosy when they arrived. Kreacher had obviously visited while they were out; the fire was lit and the trail of mess Ron always left behind him had been tidied away. The house-elf tended to split his time between this place and where Harry lived with Ginny in Holyhead, although his loyalty was still firmly with Harry as his owner. For the first time since he'd moved in last week, he almost felt like he could call the place homely and he wondered how much that had to do with Hermione being around.

They made quick work of unpacking the bags, setting out the ingredients on the kitchen island. Ron turned to look at Hermione expectantly. "So, where do we start?"

She tutted, although there was a smile on her face. "Don't tell me you've never made Christmas pudding?!"

"Well no, not really. Mum usually does it. Last year was the first time I offered to contribute to the dinner, well the first year I could afford to due to getting a promotion in work. And then, I was already to make the puds and something else happened and I couldn't go. They had to go without dessert in the end and I did feel a bit guilty but…" He shrugged, although the tips of his ears had turned pink again. "Can't be helped, can it?"

Hermione regarded Ron closely as on the turn of a dime, he went quiet and sullen. She was usually good at reading people, although she wasn't the most sociable, preferring to withdraw to the library or her own chambers in the evenings after dinner. But still, her colleagues had always referred to her as trustworthy and she'd been told she was a good listener. Ron seemed to be full of brilliant stories; he'd obviously lived a far more interesting life than hers despite his young age and she craved to hear more from him. However, now wasn't the time or place; they had a goal and it needed their full focus if they were going to achieve it. Instead of pushing him further, she pushed the sleeves of her jumper up, in a move that made her look like she meant business.

"Have you got aprons?" She put on her brightest smile, desperate to break Ron out of his sudden funk. He noticed her effort and smiled in return, crossing the large kitchen to dig in a drawer. Eventually, he pulled out two; one white and one pink.

"I'll have the white one…" She closed the gap between them before he even had a chance to protest, grabbing it from his grip and tying it around her waist. Ron regarded the pink apron briefly before shrugging and putting it on. Once it was firmly fastened, he pulled a pose; his hands behind his head as if he were having a photo taken.

Hermione couldn't help but let out a loud laugh. "Oh, that's so fetching! Come on, stop messing around. We have work to do…" She pushed an errant curl behind her ear before getting stuck in.

It's usually customary to start making Christmas puddings one or two months before the day, mostly to let the alcohol soak into the fruit and mature. Hermione had fond memories of working with her Grandma in her cold, Nottinghamshire kitchen. She was usually in charge of stirring the ingredients together but sometimes, her Gran would let her have a sniff of the brandy. She remembered how it made her feel, seemingly warming her up from the inside out and making her extremities tingle. They sang traditional carols as they baked. Her Grandmother always had a way of making it feel like fun instead of work, a rule she tried her best to pass down to her students and she looked forward to it every year until she had died.

'The earlier in the day they'd started, the better,' her Gran used to say and that wasn't only just because the light in the kitchen was limited to the hours the sun was in the sky; by midday, the cooking had been finished and her Grandmother could usually be found asleep by the fire.

The modern technology in Ron's kitchen made everything a lot easier. When the room had started to darken around mid-afternoon, he had just leaned over and flipped a switch, illuminating the kitchen with the metal lamps hanging off the ceiling. Electricity, he had called it and Hermione had been surprised to hear it was muggles who had invented it.

A quick charm had solved the issue of the lack of time the rum had to mature in the fruit. The pair worked well together, dividing up the tasks and dancing around the kitchen with ease. They hadn't needed music or singing; instead, they reminisced about Christmases from their childhood and before long 5 Christmas puddings were sat on the kitchen table, ready to be wrapped up before they left for the dinner tomorrow.

Ron leaned against a counter as he watched Hermione pile the dirty utensils next to the sink. She'd wanted to clean as she worked, but he'd soon put a stop to that. The chaos of a messy kitchen reminded him of home and the never-ending list of tasks his mother worked through to put a Christmas dinner on the table. It was hard enough for her when there had only been nine of them, but as the Weasley siblings had grown up; it had expanded – bringing in stray friends, partners, and children. Now Molly often fed fifteen mouths and sometimes even more. All of his siblings were married now, even Percy, and Ron briefly wondered what it would be like if things had turned out differently for him.

He shook the thought from his head and made a mental note to see if Hermione wanted to join them at the Burrow for Christmas Day. Hopefully, for her sake, she'd be back to her own time by then but he didn't want her to have to sit in the house alone if she was still stuck in 2008. It would be quite nice for her to experience a big family celebration, although sometimes it could be overwhelming. From what he'd heard about her so far, she had a much smaller family and mostly chose to celebrate Christmas at Hogwarts.

"Hermione leave the washing up. Kreacher will be back before bedtime and he'll be delighted to sort it all out…"

Hermione turned from where she was carefully stacking another bowl on to the pile, her sudden movement causing it to wobble precariously. They had house-elves in the castle, of course, but they were always unseen and she could never imagine being able to discuss one with the casualness Ron was. However, she did have strong feelings on the appropriateness of using another magical being as a slave.

"No, not it's fine. I insist. The poor thing must have enough to do considering he manages two households…" She turned back, starting to run the tap and missing Ron rolling his eyes at her.

"But he loves it…" He tried to argue back. "If he's not kept busy, he'll just revert to stealing our trinkets…"

"I don't care Ron. He had enough to do this morning since I abandoned washing up our breakfast things. Anyway, I'm a witch – it won't take me long!" With a flick of her wand, the pile of dirty utensils started washing in the sink.

"Fine…" Ron pouted briefly behind her before getting distracted by his stomach growling. They hadn't eaten since breakfast, which was very unusual for him. "Do you fancy takeaway for tea?"

"What's takeaway?" She turned back towards him with another frown on her face.

"Oh, of course, you wouldn't have had that! It's brilliant!" He dug a handful of menus out of a drawer and spread them out on the side. "You choose what you want then ring up the restaurant and place your order. In about half an hour, the food comes and you pay them with cash…"

Hermione left the washing up to sort itself out, drying her hands in a tea towel before wandering over to Ron. She picked up a menu at random. "Taste of China? So wait, the food comes all the way from China? How does it get here so quickly – surely that's magical?"

"No…" Ron laughed, ignoring the scathing look Hermione gave him as he pulled the menu out of her hands and opened it up properly. "They cook it down the road on Islington High Street. I'd be very surprised if any of them were actually Chinese. Most British looking muggles I've ever seen. Still, it tastes great, so I'm not going to complain. What kind of meat do you like? I'll order us a selection…"

She leaned into Ron, fully intrigued as she surveyed the list of food with him. She was amused when they bickered slightly over the final list, but in the end, she agreed to follow his guidance; he was the expert after all. She watched him place the order with an amazed look on her face. Once he hung up, she shook her head and turned back to supervising the washing up.

Within half an hour, the food had arrived and all the washing up had been dried and put away.

Ron had eagerly met the driver at the door; handing over the muggle change (which he'd had to demonstrate to Hermione and count out for her) before carrying the bags through to the front room.

He plonked himself down on the sofa and eagerly pulled out tray after tray of food, setting them out on the ottoman.

He smiled as she appeared in the doorway and patted the sofa next to him.

"So, the proper way to eat Chinese food is straight out of the carton." He held out a fork once she was comfortable. "Just tuck into bits and bobs as you fancy it; that way you'll get the full experience. Go on, you get first try…" He opened a container at random and held it out to Hermione, who dipped her fork into it tentatively. He watched her closely, his breath almost held as she practically inhaled the food, her eyes lighting up at the explosion of new flavours.

She chewed eagerly, desperate to tell him how good it tasted but she had been brought up with proper manners and taught never to talk with her mouthful. "Oh, that's amazing!" She grabbed the carton off him and sat back against the sofa, tucking in eagerly.

"Hey, don't eat it all…" He stole a forkful from her before picking out his own food. He reclined back onto the sofa, trying not to laugh at the running commentary as Hermione picked her way through all the meals.

With full tummies and a pile of empty takeaway cartons, Ron lazily lifted his wand; sending the rubbish through to the kitchen with the satisfaction of knowing Kreacher will be left with something to do at the end of the day. He turned his attention back to Hermione, who was now lounging contentedly, her eyes half-closed. She was adjusting well to the time period, it seemed and despite the fact it had only been a day, Ron felt like she'd always lived here with him. She was comfortable and he marvelled at the ease in which they were existing together.

Straight away, he knew what her next experience should be, even though it might throw up some painful memories for him but for the first time in a really long year, he felt ready to let at least some of his barriers down. It would evoke some questions from Hermione, but he trusted her; despite only knowing her for a few hours. He lifted his wand again, smiling as he accio'd the TV remote as well as a DVD case.

Once the latter was in his possession, he presented it to Hermione, who looked up at it with curious eyes.

"This is a DVD. We use it to store digital content, such as photos or music or films…" He forced himself up from his comfortable spot and carried on explaining its functions as he turned on the TV and set the disc in the player, eventually settling back on the sofa a little bit closer to Hermione this time. He pulled the waiting blanket from where he'd slung it over the arm the last time he'd used it and drape it over the two of them. He pouted as it only just covered his legs as he made sure she got the most of it.

"You're about to experience the best Christmas film ever; just don't tell my family I'm letting you watch it. I am very much firmly in the Bah Humbug camp this year and I don't want them getting ideas that I might actually enjoy myself this year." He gave Hermione a wink as the movie title loaded up; the camera panning down onto a wintery scene.

Hermione read the title and gasped, her eyes lighting up in excitement. "A Christmas Carol?! That's one of my favourite books. And you still know the story now?! I encourage the children to read it every year!"

She leaned forward from where she was sat, and Ron gulped as he got a glimpse of her bare skin above her jeans.

"So this is a movie?" She tore her eyes away from the screen to glance at Ron, frowning as he looked distracted. She followed his gaze, blushing bright red as she realised he was staring at a small patch of skin she inadvertently revealed when she leaned forward. "Hey, Ron…"

Ron shook his head, his cheeks matching Hermione's as he realised he'd been caught out. "Uhm… yeah, it's called a film or a movie…" He gave her a sheepish smile and watched Hermione turn her attention back to the film, an unmistakable smile on her face. She looked almost pleased with herself.

Her glee at being able to see one of her favourite stories brought to life filled Ron with a warm feeling, something he'd not experienced in a long while. It was only topped at her surprise as the puppets sung and danced their way through the story. It was even more endearing when she attempted to join in. The fact she didn't know the words or the tune didn't seem to stop her trying. He found himself watching her more than the movie, not that it mattered – he knew every song and line off by heart himself. He'd been 12 when he and his siblings had snuck into the muggle movie theatre close to his parents' home in Ottery St. Catchpole. He'd been hoping they were going to watch an action movie, but he'd been swept away from by the magic of the story. He'd tried every year to watch it since and sometimes managed it more than once.

He felt a heavy sigh escape his lips as he watched Ebenezer Scrooge deliver his presents across the village; his feelings about Christmas and charity changed for good. Christmas used to be his favourite time of the year, but he felt more akin with Scrooge this year. He hated it and the easy excuse it gave his brothers to tease him about being a Grinch but he wasn't surprised by the feeling. He cursed at himself as a tear escaped his eye.

Hermione's attention was drawn away from the movie by Ron's sigh. As the credits rolled, she turned her head to look at him with a small frown; he was crying, despite the movie's happy ending. The sad look on his face almost broke her heart and she carefully picked up the TV remote, contemplating it briefly before finding the button to turn it off.

"Ron, what's wrong?" Without thinking she shifted closer to him, picking up his hand carefully. She worried she'd done the wrong thing as he turned his attention to their hands and she was about to loosen her grip when he gave her a firm squeeze.

"I used to watch this with Lavender; at least twice a year…"

"Who's Lavender?"

Hermione felt her heart skip. Although he hadn't mentioned that he was courting, she wouldn't be surprised. He was a handsome man and seemingly had plenty to offer.

Ron stared at their hands thoughtfully for a moment before shaking his head. "You know what? It doesn't matter! Come on, we better get to bed – we have a big day ahead of us tomorrow!"

With the moment passing as quickly as it had started, Hermione felt her shoulders droop. She had been so close to him opening up and talking to her; she thought they'd been working hard on getting to know each other, which only heightened the disappointment she felt.

"Oh, of course… come on then…" She helped him tidy up the living room then followed him up the stairs. She lingered deliberately at her bedroom door. "Well, good night Ron…"

"Night Hermione…" Ron gave her the briefest of smiles before heading towards his own room. She willed for him to look back, but he headed into his room and closed the door.

She shut her own bedroom door behind her before turning the lock, cursing herself for feeling upset. She'd thought they'd shared something today, a growing bond that had the potential to be more. Although she barely knew him, she was desperate to make this Christmas good for him and she thought the connection she'd felt was reciprocated. Perhaps she had been confounded by yesterday's accident. It felt her brain was upside and back to front. She changed quickly and got herself into bed, trying hard to push the sad thoughts from her head so she could get some sleep.


	5. Christmas Eve

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hermione and Ron go to the Christmas Eve Dinner and she gets to meet the rest of his family. Later, at the Burrow, she realises just who needed Christmas Cheer, though it comes with a high cost.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Happy Christmas Eve Eve! I hope you're all having a lovely break. Work was dead today, so here's a crazy long chapter compared to my usual chapter length. It's heartbreaking and just what you need at Christmas! Enjoy!

Hermione found herself awake quite early the next morning. Although that wasn't unusual in itself - she was an early to bed, early to rise type of person which fitted nicely into her routine at the school – but she had laid in bed for hours last night, contemplating her situation; frustrated that she hadn't made any progress in finding Christmas Cheer for someone and confused about her growing feelings for Ron. How could she let herself get into this situation? She barely knew him; she'd only been in this time for just a little over a day. Yet she'd spent every one of those hours in his presence, drinking in his electric personality and growing to really like him.

She tried to push the thoughts out of her head; it was Christmas Eve and the day of the big charity dinner. Normally she'd wake early, taking a post-breakfast walk in the brusque Scottish air. After lunch, she'd curl up in front of the fire in the staffroom and read a book or join her colleagues in a few Christmas games. The faculty would exchange gifts after the Christmas Eve feast and sometimes, she even allowed herself a glass or two of mulled mead – it was Christmas after all.

Despite how tired she felt, Hermione was still excited; mostly for the opportunity to meet the rest of Ron's family and friends. The small glimpses into this side of his life had intrigued her; he had already explained his family was large and growing by the day and she was keen to see just how big it really was.

She pushed herself out of bed, deciding to get in the shower first. As she washed, she marvelled at how easily she was adjusting to life in 2008; how nice it had felt last night sat on the sofa, eating convenience food, and watching TV. Even the shower itself was a luxury. In her time if she wanted to wash with hot water, she'd have to pump the water and boil it over a fire first. She usually just relied on a cleaning charm, but she never felt fully clean, like there was a layer of grime still stuck to her skin that would never be removed.

Once showered, she dressed in a pair of jeans and the Christmas jumper that Ginny had laid out for her yesterday. She let her curls dry naturally; refusing to use the hairdryer her new friend had shown her. It made an awful noise and left her head buzzing and unnaturally warm. Drying charms left her hair frizzy, so she usually just let nature do her thing.

Ron's bedroom door was still shut tightly as she passed it, so she decided to head downstairs and check on the puddings. By the time all five them had been wrapped nicely and stowed away in a small bag she'd found under the stairs, Ron had joined her; his sullen mood replaced with something a little more chipper.

"G'morning…" He'd appeared in the doorway of the kitchen, his hair still ruffled with sleep and a groggy look on his face. Disappointingly, or so for Hermione, he'd remembered to get dressed this morning.

"Good morning sunshine. I was about to start making breakfast, but…" She stared at the fridge, letting out an exasperated sigh. "I forgot how to use the stove. I wanted eggs…"

"Well, let me help…" Ron pushed her gently away from the fridge and scooped up the carton of eggs. "Go sit down, I'll talk you through it then tomorrow morning you can cook!"

Hermione perched on one of the bar stools at the kitchen island, resting her head in her hand as she watched him move around the kitchen. She was glad he was feeling happier, but she was still eager to work out what was going on with him. However, it wasn't the time or place to push it.

With breakfast eaten and tidied away, they were soon at the front door, wrapping themselves up against the elements. Ron finished knotting his red and gold scarf around his neck before turning to Hermione. "Are you ready to go?" He held out his hand to her.

Hermione double-checked she had all the desserts before nodding and taking his hand with a firm grip. She felt him squeeze her hand and her stomach leapt happily as he apparated them to a small barn on the outskirts of Ottery St. Catchpole.

Ron was always in awe of his parents' skills of taking something run down and ugly looking and turning it into something beautiful. The barn had always existed, just on the outskirts of the small village, sitting below Stoat's Hill but had never belonged to anyone. So eventually his parents had adopted it and ever since the magical community had used it for parties and other occasions. Over the last few days, it had been transformed into a Christmas grotto and everyone had mucked in; helping to sweep the floor, to magically patch the holes in the ceiling, just in case it rained or snowed, and to decorate.

He kept hold of Hermione's hand as they hurried towards the warm glow. The sky was grey and it was threatening to snow again. He pulled her into the barn and grinned at her reaction. For the first time this year, the explosion of decorations and the festive feel in the barn didn't even bother him. In fact, it made him feel even happier and he wondered if he was getting his love for Christmas back.

Luckily, everyone was too busy with their own tasks to notice the curly brown-haired witch attached to Ron's arm, staring around the barn in amazement. Of course, they had Christmas decorations in her time but parties like this were rare. Headmistress Mole preferred to keep things modest, focussing instead on ensuring the feasts were plentiful. The barn on the other hand was a fantastic mismatch of colours and glitter. It was clear the wizarding families had donated all their old decorations - nothing matched, yet everything looked exactly where it belonged.

Ron led Hermione through the maze of tables, cheerfully greeting everyone they passed.

"I'll introduce you to everyone properly later, but there's an important person you need to meet first." He stopped outside an annexe that had been attached in a disjointed way to one of the side doors and was currently acting as a kitchen. "But before you get attacked, there's a disclaimer. Mum is… well, she's just mum. She's enthusiastic, she loves it when I bring friends over and by the end of the day, I'm pretty sure she will have tried to adopt you. But she means well and she has a good heart!"

Hermione didn't even get a chance to register what Ron was telling her, let alone react. A short, slightly plump, and kindly-looking woman was barrelling towards them, her arms open wide. She had the same flaming fiery-red hair as Ron, so Hermione took an educated guess that this was the aforementioned 'Mum'.

"Oh, Hermione – it's so lovely to finally meet you!" Without even waiting for permission, the Weasley matriarch threw her arms around Hermione, holding her as if she was a long-lost friend. Hermione stood rigid in her arms for a second, she definitely wasn't used to being treated so familiarly by a stranger, but Molly's embrace was gentle and motherly and Hermione had no choice but to relax into it.

"Ginny's been talking to you then…" Ron rolled his eyes, though he watched his mum embrace Hermione with a warm smile.

His family were the worst at keeping secrets, not that she was a secret of course. He would have just preferred to have had a chance to introduce her properly, he was the one who knew her the best and he hated to think of the extra information his sister might have fed to their mother.

"Of course she has dear, she was excited!" Molly pulled away from the hug to regard Hermione closely. "I hear you've made us the puddings?"

"Yes, of course, they're in my bag…" Hermione smiled back warmly.

"Brilliant, come with me then my love…"

Ron watched as Hermione was steered away from him and into the kitchen. "Hi mum, I didn't want a hug or anything…"

He started to roll his eyes again, but he was stopped by the backwards glance Hermione threw him. It said everything to him; being accepted so readily into the Weasley fold had pleased her greatly and he couldn't help but give her a lopsided smile in return. He watched until she'd completely disappeared before turning back to the barn, casting his eye over the room for Harry. He might as well put himself to use while he was here.

The dinner seemed to be an absolute success. The hosts easily switched roles from chefs and decorators to waiters, serving course after course to the magical folk who needed it the most. The magic of partaking in something good warmed Hermione's body from tip to toe and she felt like she was walking on clouds. She'd never experienced anything like this before in her short life; although teaching made her happy, this was another level.

For most of the afternoon, she had been kept apart from Ron with different tasks, despite her best effort to work her way back to him. She had been kept placated however by the exchanged glances and shared smiles. Once dinner had been served, a disco started up in the corner of the room under the massive tree; the dancing led by an enthusiastic looking half-giant. The music, however, was strange to Hermione; she felt the thrumming beats deep within her, reverberating around her head. She stopped what she was doing, watching the enthusiastic dancing with keen interest. Most of the participants looked like they were having a fit.

She was so distracted that she didn't notice Ginny appear at her side.

"Hey! Can you help me clear these tables?" Hermione turned her head to see the petite ginger's friendly face.

"Oh yes sure. Sorry, I was just watching the disco. What a strange thing to do…"

Ginny laughed. "You'll get used to it…" She led Hermione over to the table she'd been tidying. They worked in silence for a while before Hermione spoke up again.

"So last night, Ron made me watch A Muppets Christmas Carol…"

Ginny giggled. "Didn't take him long to whip that out. One year he made me watch it five times in a row!" She collected up the cutlery, looking thoughtful for a moment before continuing. "I didn't think he'd be able to watch it this year…"

"Well, that's the thing. He got a bit, well… upset… which was a bit odd considering the film. And when I tried to find out what was wrong, he mentioned someone called Lavender, but then clammed up…"

"Yeah well, that's not surprising!" Ginny stopped what she was doing to look at Hermione. "She dumped him. Actually, it would have been a year ago yesterday. They'd been together for nine years and although he never said anything, I'm pretty sure he was going to propose to her over Christmas. He woke up one morning and she was gone; all of her things were missing and she'd left a note apologising and explaining that she had met someone else."

Hermione gasped in surprise. "No wonder he's not keen on Christmas."

"The sad thing is he used to really enjoy it. We knew this year would be hard on him, but I didn't realise how much he'd almost shut himself off completely from it all until Harry told me. I was surprised to see him here today, but I think you had something to do with that…" Ginny gave Hermione a warm smile.

Hermione considered Ginny's words carefully before letting the smile erupt on her face. Maybe she was unintentionally helping someone get their Christmas Cheer. If that was true, she was glad it was Ron – he was the one who needed it the most.

She didn't manage to make it back to him until the end of the party when she spotted him leaning against one of the wooden walls near the entrance, wishing the partygoers a Merry Christmas as they left. She sidled up to him and was pleased when his attention turned straight towards her.

"Have you had a good day?"

"The best! Thank you for inviting me to come!" Hermione gave him a warm smile.

"Good! It's not over yet. Mum asked me to invite you to the Carol service and then back to the Burrow for the buffet. She also asked me to tell you that she would not accept no as an answer. That goes for both of us…" He checked the time on his watch. "Actually, we better make a move if we want to make the service…"

"That would be brilliant! Of course, I want to come. Are you going to apparate us?"

"Nah, it's only up the road. We can walk there easily if you're up for it?"

"That's fine. I usually go for a walk on Christmas Eve anyway, I was missing it…"

"Perfect! Come on then…"

The pair wrapped themselves back up before heading up the lane in comfortable silence. As they walked, Hermione considered broaching the subject of Lavender with Ron but he wasn't lying when he said the walk to the church was short. Soon the cutest looking village church came into view. Crowds of people gathered around the kissing gate at the front of the grounds, despite the thickly falling snow.

"This village is beautiful…" Hermione smiled as they joined the rest of the family.

"It is, isn't it? It's both magical and muggle. Did you ever come and visit Devon in your time?"

"No… travel wasn't really a thing unless you had a reason to go somewhere. We holidayed, but usually just at a local seaside…"

"Well if you end up staying around, I'll have to show you the sights. It's a beautiful part of the world…"

Although Ron was talking to Hermione, she noticed his attention was being pulled elsewhere. She followed his line of sight; he seemed to be watching a woman snake her way through the crowds towards them, pulling behind her a surly-looking man. By the expression on Ron's face, which had suddenly turned pale and frowny, she was about to meet Lavender. In a split decision, Hermione took hold of his hand tightly and shifted closer, leaning all of her weight against him in a look she hoped was romantic.

"Won-Won!" A high-pitched squeal pierced through the waiting crowd and Ron blushed bright red as the people around them stopped and stared. Now that she was closer, Hermione could see that Lavender was pale, with extremely long blond curls, although neither the colour nor form of her hair looked natural. Her slim frame was accentuated by a pink robe which had been lined with fur. She was wearing knee-high boots on, which had been pulled over an impossibly tight pair of jeans. Underneath the robe, Hermione was surprised to see that Lavender had quite a lot of her cleavage on show, which Hermione though was quite indecent, not only because they were about to head into a church, but also due to the extremely cold British weather.

"Lavender, hi…" Ron threw Hermione an appreciative glance as she tightened her grip on his hand. She noticed his jaw was clenched tightly and he was almost grimacing against the onslaught.

"It's so funny that you're here tonight. I was just saying to Simon that your family lived around here somewhere. We're looking to buy here, so that'll be nice to be close to people we know. Simon, this is Ronald. We know each other from school…"

"It's not funny that I'm here; you came here every year of the nine we dated but who's keeping track?" Ron took Simon's hand, shaking it once before quickly letting go of it as if the handshake burnt his skin. The sandy-haired man was handsome, but weary, and looked like he was thoroughly regretting his business suit as he glanced around at the Weasley's casual attire.

Lavender ignored Ron.

"And who's this?" She looked Hermione up and down, not looking impressed.

Before Ron could answer, Hermione stepped in front of him almost protectively. "I'm his girlfriend. Yeah, we've been together a while actually, haven't we Ron?" She turned quickly, pressing a firm kiss against his cheek. "Actually, I'm really glad you're here Lavender. I wanted to thank you. If you hadn't decided to abandon him last year, I wouldn't have been able to make my move. We've been together what, almost a year now?"

Thankfully, Ron was pretty bright and he picked up on Hermione's intentions pretty quickly. The scowl on his face quickly turned into a smile. "Yeah, that's about right sweetheart…" He let go of Hermione's hand and instead wrapped both arms around her, pulling her back into his body. "Ginny introduced us. Hermione works for the Harpies. We're always hanging out as a foursome, going on double dates…"

Lavender wrinkled her nose up, almost in disgust; looking unimpressed that the conversation seemed to be turning against her. She panicked, almost as if she were reaching for a retort that wouldn't come.

"Well, we better get in – we want to sit as close to the front as we can…." She turned quickly, pulling Simon with her without saying goodbye.

"Merry Christmas!" Ron waved cheerfully at their retreating backs. As soon as Lavender was out of earshot, he laughed and spun Hermione around before wrapping his arms back around her. "That was brilliant, thank you! The look on her face was absolutely priceless!"

"You're welcome!" Hermione pulled away from the hug just enough so she could look up at Ron. She suddenly realised how deep his blue eyes were; like she could fall into them easily and it took her breath away.

She was amazed to see them darken as he wet his lips before dropping his head towards hers. Her heartbeat sped up and she closed her eyes, preparing herself for the sensation. Ron was so close now; she could feel his breath on her cheek.

"Oy you two. The service is about to start…"

Hermione felt Ron spring away from her quickly as her cheeks heated up. She turned her head to the source of the disturbance to see Ginny waiting at the door of the church, a smug, knowing look on her face. She disappeared as quickly as she'd appeared and Hermione could have sworn she heard him curse under his breath.

"Come on, we better head in…" He laced his fingers with hers, anyway, keeping a tight grip on her as he pulled her towards the church. He easily located the rest of his family by the rows of ginger heads and sat down in the spare seats they'd saved for them; scowling at the amused looks his brothers were throwing their way and their whispered jokes.

Soon the service started, providing Hermione with the distraction she needed. Under his breath, Ron quickly explained to her that although her family weren't religious, his parents had started attending when they moved here after school just to become part of the community and it had quickly become a family tradition. Hermione's parents had been extremely religious, which had made their acceptance of her being magical quite difficult, so she basked in the familiarity of the readings and the psalms; some things never changed, even after over a hundred years.

Every time they stood to sing, which Hermione soon realised the family did with gusto, Lavender threw her and Ron filthy looks, giving them both a great sense of satisfaction; Lavender was obviously bothered that Ron had moved on so quickly.

The family's raucous spirit spilt over into the buffet back at Ron's childhood home. The Burrow was a peculiar but homely place; the five floors wobbled up towards the sky and was so obviously held upright by magic. Inside, it was cluttered but warm; a massive leap from the sterile feel Hermione's own family home had given.

The large family had piled inside, coats and boots abandoned all over the place as they made a beeline for the waiting buffet.

As an only child, Hermione was not used to the commotion. The children at school barely stepped a foot out of line and were drilled regularly in the importance of learning quietly, much to her chagrin. It was inevitable that eventually, she would need to take a break. Quietly, she unhooked her coat and hat from where she'd stowed it earlier and slipped outside, seemingly unseen.

Glancing around the dark garden, she spotted a small nook illuminated by a set of fairy lights. A lonely bench sat among the bushes and Hermione picked that location to gather her thoughts. The sky was clear out in the countryside and she could see all the stars; something she'd missed while they'd been in the city.

She was still no closer to working out how to get back to her own time. She let out a heavy sigh; she missed the castle and her students desperately, but she realised now that she would be sad to leave this world and its people behind. She reflected on how easily the Weasleys had made her feel part of the family. They were huge, but this meant nobody was sat on the outside and everyone was expected to get involved. Just before she left the house, half of the group had been embroiled in a passionate game of what they called Monopoly and the small children had been wrestling over a child's toy broom that barely hovered a foot off the ground.

And of course, there was Ron. Charming, complex, grumpy, handsome Ron. They had been so close to kissing earlier and Hermione's thoughts raced with how that had felt; how her heartbeat had sped up and her palms had turned clammy. Unsurprisingly, she had never kissed a man before, although she had been courting someone in her late teens. And she was about to kiss him in a churchyard no less. Usually, she was so prim and proper, especially around men but she found herself coming completely undone around him.

"Knut for your thoughts?"

Hermione jumped as she was pulled from her reflections by the very person she'd been absorbed in. She smiled and shifted over to make space for him on the bench.

"I've just been thinking about how I'm going to get home. I don't think I have a lot of time left…"

Ron sighed, his breath clouding in the winter air. He yearned to throw his arm over her shoulder, to pull her close and tell her that it would be okay; that they would sort this out but selfishly, he wasn't even sure he wanted to anymore. He kept his arms to himself for now. "It's hard, isn't it? How do you make someone have Christmas Cheer? How do you identify someone that needs it that bad?"

"I don't think Dumbledore could have been more cryptic if he'd tried…"

"That's Dumbledore all over…" Ron laughed. "So I wanted to thank you for earlier. Lavender's face was hilarious. I didn't realise it when I was with her, but she's such a cow…"

"Shame you didn't realise before; 9 years is a long time…"

"You know?" Ron frowned slightly and Hermione wondered if she said the wrong thing.

"I asked Ginny earlier…" She threw him a guilty look. "Sorry…"

"Nothing's a bloody secret in this family…" Ron rolled his eyes.

"So I know yours, let me tell you mine." Hermione summoned all her courage before starting to tell Ron something she had never told anyone else.

"When I came of age I was betrothed to one of the men in my schoolhouse. I'm muggle-born and the best way to get ahead in the magical community, during my time anyway, is to marry well. Cormac was from a highly influential wizarding family and was in the year above me. We got on well enough; we were both prefects so often found ourselves on rounds together and we courted during our visits to Hogsmeade.

"Our families agreed that our marriage would be beneficial for all of us. Despite my blood status, his parents were satisfied that he wouldn't be losing out as I was top of my class and was lined up to be Head Girl.

"Cormac was a keen Quidditch player and was lined up to play for the Chudley Cannons. During the last game of the year, he took a bludger to the head. He didn't stand a chance; all of the action was down the other side of the pitch so his fall wasn't cushioned or stopped. I didn't even see it happen; I detest the sport. He died on impact…"

Hermione focused on the garden as it faded down into the darkness beyond the Burrow boundaries.

"So that's why you decided to take a job at the castle straight out of school?"

"Without the offer of marriage, I didn't really stand a chance to make my own way for myself outside of the school. Getting a job would have been difficult, there's a limited amount of jobs witches can take on and with no income, I would have been forced to go back to my parent's house and hope I could marry a muggle man. Although I probably would have had to keep my magic quiet. I don't think I could have done that…"

"That sounds pretty awful. It's not like that here. You could stay single for the rest of your life and still be successful. Women can be what they want nowadays. Also, it would have been a loss to the world if you had to stop performing magic!"

She blushed and turned to look at Ron, smiling as they made eye contact. "I really wish you could have told me about Lavender yourself. I wouldn't have judged you…"

"It seems pretty ridiculous to get so upset about someone who treated me awfully, don't you think?"

"Not really. A broken heart is a broken heart, no matter how it was broken." Hermione shrugged. "I still think about Cormac, although it's mostly fond memories now. I'm not upset anymore…"

Ron watched his hand as he moved it in between their legs, picking up her hand from where it rested on the bench and interlocking their fingers. He smiled at the sensation of their palms pressed together. "That's good. Today, for the first time in a long while I think I genuinely felt happy." He gave her hand a tight squeeze.

She continued to watch him. "You're a good man, Ron Weasley. You deserve to be happy and to enjoy Christmas. Don't let her take that away from you…"

He couldn't respond to her, even if he wanted to. Once again he found himself being drawn to her and this time, he wasn't going to let anyone interrupt them. Before anything else could happen, he slid his spare hand to the back of her head, pushing her gently towards him before capturing her lips with his.

The kiss was soft and unassuming but it made his heart soar. For once, he wasn't thinking about why Lavender no longer wanted him or how awful he must have been to her to deserve to be treated like that. He was only focusing on how good Hermione's lips felt pressed against his.

Eventually, they had to pull away for breath. When Ron spoke, his voice was low with desire.

"I'm sorry, I shouldn't have…" He tried to look away and Hermione pushed his head back towards her, forcing him to maintain eye contact with her. His intense stare once again stole her breath away, the stunning ice blue piercing into her soul.

"No, I wanted to. When I'm with you; every sense of propriety goes straight out of the window. Although, if I were in my time, I would probably be branded a harlot for even thinking of kissing you…"

Ron burst out laughing and suddenly the magic was broken. He slid his spare hand from the back of her head and to her shoulder, drawing her closer to him. She was shivering, but he wasn't sure how much of that was because of the cold.

"Well, I am sorry for ruining your virtue at least…"

"If I get home, I'll have to hang my head in shame…" Hermione laughed too as she rested her head on his shoulder.

"I don't want to think about that. Shall we just enjoy the time that we have?" He turned his head to look at her closely before kissing her temple. I'm going to head back inside before I turn into a snowman, are you going to join me?"

"Can I have a minute?"

She noticed Ron's concerned look and smiled. "I'm fine, I promise. I just need a moment, you left me a little breathless…"

"Okay…" Ron stole one last kiss from her before untangling his arms from around her and leaving her alone on the bench.

Hermione let out a shaky breath and wiped the tear from her cheek. The thought of being torn away from Ron now almost broke her heart. She'd only know him for a couple of days and yet she knew she was falling for him hard. She also knew that this was the first time she'd felt this way since Cormac and she needed to take things slow, especially considering the more modern rules around dating. But also she was painfully aware that time was not on her side, like an hourglass turned up the wrong way; it was slipping away from her.

Deciding on her next course of action, she slid off the picnic bench and made her way back to the house. She was going to ask Ron to take her back to Grimmauld Place so that they could talk more about what had happened and perhaps do a little more kissing too. She smile as she removed her hat, feeling relieved to be back in the warmth of the kitchen. Beyond the room, Ron wrestled with two of his eldest nephews; their fathers watching on with great delight. Somehow in the five minutes they'd been apart, a Santa hat had made its way onto his head and he seemingly wore it with pride.

She stepped through the kitchen, lingering in the doorway to catch her breath.

"Ron?" As soon as she said his name, the tingling sensation started again; this time radiating down from her head and working its way slowly down to her toes. She knew what was going to come next and desperate to fight against it, she took hold of the wooden doorframe; her knuckles turning white in her attempt to stay tethered to this era. As if knowing she didn't want to go, the pull at her stomach felt more brutal this time, mixing with the surge of conflicted feelings currently coursing through her body and forcing wave after wave of nausea to ride over her body. Ron had found his Christmas Cheer and was happy again but it had come at a high cost. She didn't want to go; she didn't want to leave all of this behind.

She tightened her grip on the battered wood, willing with all her energy for him to look up before she disappeared.

On hearing his name, he looked up from the dogpile; smiling as he saw Hermione, the light from the kitchen illuminating her. Instead of smiling back, the witch looked distressed and immediately, Ron knew something was wrong. It was almost as if she were fading away.

In one moment, every happy feeling that had been building from the moment he'd woken up yesterday and that had peaked when he kissed her earlier was disappearing right in front of him. No matter how hard he pushed his legs to move, he felt like he was treading in treacle and by the time he made it to the spot where she'd stood, she had already disappeared.

Desperate to stop her, he quickly straightened himself out from between the children, ignoring their protests as he hurried towards her. But by the time he got to her, she had disappeared completely and his heart broke all over again.


	6. A Christmas Miracle

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hermione finally makes it back to 1892, and realises that maybe her desperate need to get back was misguided and maybe 2008 was where she belonged. The question is; will she be able to make it back to Ron?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well here we are, the ending of another fic from me. I have absolutely loved writing this, although trying to finish two Romione fics at the same time was quite stressful and often made me feel like I was repeating myself. I loved this; to me it is the epitome of the cheesy Christmas movie and I tried to make it cheesy as I could. If you have any questions or notice any plot holes; just put it down to the magic of Christmas. I hope you're still enjoying your holidays and eating loads of delightful food. As always, please leave me your thoughts and feedback and just remember, if you can't be nice, be constructive xxx

There was a brief moment when Hermione found herself lying on a cold, stone floor that she thought maybe she had just taken a funny turn. She hoped that when she opened her eyes, she would still in the Burrow with the Weasley family peering over at her. She kept them closed firmly; maybe if she wished hard enough, whatever Christmas magic that had propelled her into 2008 would work just one more time and give her what she really wanted.

And then her back started to ache and the kind voice of Molly Weasley checking up on her never came. 

She let out a heavy sigh and finally prised her eyes open, frustrated tears burning in them as she looked up at the heavy stone ceiling. The room was dark now, but there was no doubt about it – she was back in her Potions classroom. A heavy wave of despair crashed over her body and she rolled onto her side, curling herself into a tight ball before letting herself cry.

~*~

Ron stared at the spot where Hermione had just stood, not believing she had just disappeared like that. He knew that it could happen, that eventually, she’d find out the way back to her time but he had hoped they’d have a little bit longer first. It felt so cruel that he had finally let himself be happy again, only to have that torn from his grasp. He could hear his family congregating around him, asking questions about Hermione’s whereabouts but he just couldn’t face answering them; he absolutely did not want to talk about it. Instead, he pushed away from them, tearing the Santa hat from his head before leaving the house without his coat or scarf, his eyes fixed firmly on the gate marking the edge of the Burrow’s protective boundaries. As soon as he felt the familiar light buzz of magic caress over his skin, he apparated; not really caring where he ended up.

~*~

Eventually, Hermione ran out of tears and finally came to her senses. Her head was pounding and a small knot had formed in the pit of her stomach, weighing down with a bleakness she hadn’t felt for a long time. She peeled herself off the floor, eyeing the vials still sat on her desk with misdirected anger; they were the reason she felt so miserable, even though she had been the person to brew the potion in the first place. She’d been given a glimpse at a life where she could wholly be herself and be happy about it, instead of having to hide her personality and desires behind what she now felt were archaic rules about propriety and modesty. She would never experiment with magic again if this was the cruel outcome.

She crept out into the corridor, grateful that the castle seemed quiet. With any luck, she could make it back to her chambers undisturbed and wallow in her misery alone.

~*~

Ron landed and found himself on the doorstep of Grimmauld Place. With one tap of his wand, the front door opened and he headed into the house with a heavy sigh. 

As soon as he crossed the threshold, he knew that that the house wasn’t how he had left it. Every inch of the hallway was draped in garlands; with baubles, holly and mistletoe hung at every alcove and doorway. He moved from room to room, investigating the damage, being assaulted from every angle by the Christmas trimmings, only serving to remind him of the gloom pressing in on him from every side.

Angrily, he summoned the house-elf, who appeared within a second of Ron’s call.

“Kreacher? What the hell do you call this?”

The house-elf had looked joyful at his summons but soon shrunk back into himself. He had a coil of tinsel around his neck and he tugged at it nervously as he recognised Ron’s mood.

“Mistress Granger asked for it. She sent word for Kreacher to decorate via Master Harry so Kreacher went into the attic and found all the decorations. Did Kreacher do wrong?” The house-elf pulled the decoration tighter, ready to punish himself as his old masters used to make him when he did something that displeased them.

Ron watched the house-elf as he cowered. He summoned all his Auror training and took a deep breath before dropping to his knees, the anger fading from his body. Hermione had asked for this, probably to cheer him up after their talk. He couldn’t blame her, or Kreacher; he had been warming up to the idea of actually enjoying his Christmas this year and not letting Lavender ruin his life. He carefully prised the tinsel out of the elf’s hands.

“You did really well Kreacher, the house looks beautiful. You can go back to Harry now; I won’t be needing you over the next few days. Maybe give yourself a break, yeah?” 

Once he was sure the house-elf wasn’t going to hurt himself, he quickly got back to his feet and crossed the room to pull out a small present from a cupboard. He passed the parcel to the elf. “Merry Christmas Kreacher.”

He waited for him to disappear again before dragging himself towards the small bar he had set up in one of the corners of the kitchen; he’d never needed a fire whiskey this badly in a long time.

~*~

The rest of Hermione’s evening passed in a slow blur and at some point, she must have put herself to bed, although all she could remember was the distracting restlessness. She couldn’t settle; she tried to write but the words wouldn’t come out and reading was completely out of the question. 

Everyone got a happy ending apart from her, it would seem and at some point, she’d fallen asleep with the thought at the front of her mind and it had filled her dreams with depressing nightmares.

She woke when the sun crept into the room through her bedroom window; it looked like it was going to be a lovely Christmas morning, although she couldn’t think of anything worse than celebrating today.

Nevertheless, if she was stuck in 1892, she should probably just try and get on with her life, however miserable the thought made her. She shivered against the cold air as she got herself out of bed and washed. Every action made her miss 2008 more; the central heating Ron had shown her, how easy it was for her to just draw hot water out of a tap, decent lighting.

Although she had a set of green and red robes she usually wore on Christmas Day, she pushed them aside, choosing another of her black high-necked dresses and a thick, floor-length cloak. 

She pulled her hair back into a tight braid and checked her appearance in the small mirror over her desk; she looked pale, with dark circles under her eyes and for the first time since she’d splinched herself, her arm was aching terribly. She felt truly rotten.

Gathering the small gifts she’d put together for her colleagues, she made her way down to the Great Hall for breakfast. The long house tables had been removed, replaced by one round table which had been placed in the middle of the room for a more intimate affair. The majority of her colleagues were like her; single, without a family of their own so they always made sure to make the most of the day with the few students who were left at the castle. She took her seat at the table, next to the Headmistress.

“It’s nice to see you down here again, Professor Granger. I understand you’ve not been feeling very well and have been confined to your chambers. I hope it wasn’t the pox?” Professor Mole gave her a warm smile, but Hermione was confounded by the comment. 

Maybe she hadn’t even been to 2008 after all. If her colleagues thought she’d been sick then maybe everything had just been a fever-induced dream. She tentatively felt her forehead with a shaky hand; she was a little warm.

“I just had a cold, Madam Mole. I’m really sorry I missed my classes…” She pulled some toast onto her plate, although she was definitely not feeling hungry. 

How could something that made her feel such spectacularly just be a dream? She didn’t understand at all.

“Sometimes, it can’t be helped. Now get some food in you, you’ll soon be as right as rain. I hear the elves have outdone themselves this year for the Christmas feast. I can’t wait.”

Hermione continued to focus on her toast, only looking up when another body joined their small group around the table. It was Albus Dumbledore, her favourite student and she gave the boy a small smile.

Suddenly, the realisation of who he was hit her and she dropped her slice of lukewarm toast in surprise. The old wizard at the hospital, the kindly Headmaster of Hogwarts; they were all the same person as this boy, barely 12 years of age. She tried to do the maths in her head, it wasn’t logical but at the same time, she knew she was right. She met his gaze and was delighted to see his small blue eyes sparkle with the same sense of mischief she saw in both old men’s eyes.

“So you found the Christmas Cheer then, Professor Granger?” The small child looked away from her, concentrating on piling hot scrambled eggs onto his toast.

“Pardon?” She knew what he was talking about, but the question still took Hermione by surprise.

“The Christmas Cheer you were looking for. You found it?” He shovelled the food into his mouth and Hermione marvelled about him as she watched him. She’d always had a sense that he was different from the other children; that his powers were stronger than any of the teachers could really understand, even Professor Mole who was, in Hermione’s opinion, one of the greatest witches ever. They’d spent many a break huddled over a cup of coffee in the staffroom, discussing one outstanding thing he had done after the other. 

Albus lifted his head briefly from his breakfast to give Hermione another smile before carrying on eating.

Hermione’s pulse started to quicken and she could feel it throbbing under her splinching scars, already healing from the dittany she had been using. Her breath caught in her throat and she coughed to clear it before trying to keep her voice steady, not wanting to cause alarm amongst her colleagues.

“Albus? If one wanted to go back, how do you think one would approach it and make it a more permanent solution?”

The child stopped eating, gently laying his knife and fork down next to his plate, pondering his professor’s question with wide eyes. The minutes passed by painfully slowly, and Hermione was tempted to shake the answer out of him until he finally spoke up.

“Well, if the potion still exists it would have been growing stronger by the day as corked unstable potions often do. You taught us that yourself Professor. So if you wanted to go back and stay there, perhaps you need to try again and with more conviction? If it’s truly what will bring _you_ Christmas Cheer, maybe start there? Of course, if it were to work then I shall miss you. But maybe we’ll meet again…”

The twinkle in Albus’s eye looked more delighted than mischievous now, and the pair shared an understanding look over the table before he once more returned to his breakfast.

Hermione toyed with the slice of toast on her place as his words ran through her head. Maybe there was a chance she could sort this out. She picked up the bag that had been waiting at her feet, noticing how her hand had started to shake. Slowly, she gave out small presents.

“I’m sorry I missed our usual Christmas Eve gift exchange, but hopefully these will make up for my tardiness…” She let out a shaky breath. “I’m sorry, but it seems I’m really still not any better. I will return to my chambers, least I pass my germs on to the rest of you all. Merry Christmas.”

She stood up slowly, trying her best to act normal (but maybe just a little bit poorly). It wasn’t until she left the Great Hall that she took off at great speed towards her classroom, not even bothering to go to her chambers first. She only had a modest amount of possessions anyway, and nothing had sentimental value. If she were to be successful, anything she might miss could be replaced eventually anyway.

She closed the door to her classroom firmly behind her and searched the workspaces for the spare vials of her potion. She finally spotted them, sat waiting on her desk where she’d left them just a few days ago. She wasn’t sure if it was just wishful thinking, but the gold liquid looked to be shimmering just a little bit harder. 

She picked up one of the vials at random and perched against the edge of her desk as she regarded it closely, contemplating her options. She could stay in 1892; with a steady job, a roof over her head and a small circle of colleagues she could usually rely on or she could risk another trip to 2008 and hope that this time it was permanent. She barely knew Ron Weasley, yet her heart had started yearning for him as soon as she’d woken up that morning. Every thought was consumed by him and her lips still tingled with the ghost of yesterday’s kiss.

Her eyes lifted from the vial to the Gryffindor crest she had put on the wall on her first-day teaching. 

She remembered the words the sorting hat had sung to them; small, nervous 11-year olds, anxious about what house they may end up in. She hadn’t had friends when she started school and she had struggled throughout her time to make them, but the Gryffindors had fast become her family.

_“You might belong in Gryffindor, where dwell the brave at heart, their daring, nerve and chivalry, set Gryffindors apart.”_

When she’d first heard the song, she thought she was destined for Ravenclaw. Her love for knowledge, learning and books were her defining characteristics, or so she’d thought. Although her knowledge of the school had been limited to what she’d heard on the long train journey to Scotland that morning, she thought that Gryffindors were reckless, something she rarely lived up to during her short life. 

She’d always wondered if she’d been sorted incorrectly, although apparently, the hat had never got it wrong.

Now it was her time to be reckless. She knew she truly belonged in 2008 and she was positive she was happy to give up everything she had for the chance of a happier life in the future, even if that future wasn’t with Ron. The Weasleys, the Potters, the other friends she’d made in her short time there; she wanted to make them her family. They gave her a sense of belonging she’d never felt before, even with her own family, who had started to reject her as soon as they’d found out she was a witch and forced her towards a marriage she was never ready to commit to, despite how much she had adored Cormac. With a fleeting feeling of regret at not being able to say goodbye to anyone here, she uncapped the vial and drank it down in one gulp.

~*~

Ron had fallen asleep on the sofa last night; he could tell this from the way his face stuck to the leather armrest. He’d probably drooled, as he so often did when he’d had a few drinks. His head was pounding, his stomach felt like a whole bag of flobberworms had been released in there and something pointy was poking him in his side. Everything hurt.

He carefully pulled his cheek from the sofa, wincing at the pull as the leather fought against his efforts, and forced his eyes open, frowning as his sister came into view.

“Go’way Gin…” He closed his eyes again as the wanker with the drum inside his head continued its repeated tattoo.

“We took a family vote and you’re not allowed to stay at home and mope today Ronald and unfortunately I drew the short straw in forcing you out…” She poked him hard with the tip of her wand again, disturbing all the flobberworms and for a moment, Ron worried he was going to be sick.

“How much Firewhisky did you drink last night anyway?! It stinks worse than the Hog’s Head in here!”

“A small amount, not that it’s any of your business…” He pushed himself up from the sofa, willing the room to stop spinning. “I’m not going anywhere…”

Ginny sighed and pushed his legs out of the way so that she could sit down next to him. “We miss her too. For someone who wasn’t in our lives for long, Hermione made a huge impact. But I won’t allow you to spend another Christmas alone. You deserve more than that.” She gave him a sympathetic smile. “Go on, go shower. Otherwise, the whole family will get drunk off your fumes. I can apparate us over then…” She watched as Ron didn’t make any effort to move. “James is desperate to see his favourite uncle…” She patted his calf comfortingly.

Ron let out a heavy sigh, but he knew he couldn’t let his nephew down. Last year, he’d only been a baby but missing his Christmas was one of the things he regretted the most. He dragged himself off the sofa, ignoring Ginny’s triumphant smile, and heading slowly upstairs to the bathroom.

As he passed the spare bedroom, he glanced into it, hoping that maybe Hermione had just been asleep, just hiding from him but the room was still empty; the bag of spare clothes Ginny had brought over still sat in the middle of the floor. He slammed the bathroom door shut behind him, immediately cursing as the sound made his hangover twenty times worse and started to get himself ready.

~*~

When Hermione came to, she was yet again lying on a cold floor stone and she made a deal with herself that she’d never pass out again; as everytime she did, something awful happened to her. She opened her eyes quickly – hoping she’d been transported directly back to the floor at the Burrow – but instead she only saw the heavy stone ceiling of her Potions classroom again. She sighed heavily, not noticing the other person in the room until they kicked her feet.

“What, may I ask, are you doing in my classroom” The voice was soft, male and contained but yet the drawl immediately put her on edge. She quickly scrambled to her feet, brushing down her robes. The man standing over her was wearing a set of long, voluminous black robes. He was thin, with sallow skin and a rather large, hooked nose. He flicked his shoulder-length greasy black hair out of his eyes as he observed Hermione.

“What year is this?” Hermione answered the man’s question with her own, looking wildly around the classroom. It was just like hers but yet, just like the last time she’d been transported into the future, something wasn’t quite right. Her heart started to pound, but she was reluctant to let herself get too excited until she had it confirmed.

“Two-thousand and _eight_.” The man spat the T with such venom, it probably would have hurt Hermione if she weren’t experiencing the soar of joy at having her Christmas wishes confirmed. Albus’s idea had worked. 

“Again I ask,” The man paused for a dramatic effect and Hermione almost felt like cursing him for wasting her time. “Who are you?”

“You’re Professor Snape aren’t you? I am Professor Granger, well I was, I guess I don’t have a job anymore! Ron told me all about you. That means I made it back!” She threw her arms around the potion master, hugging him tightly despite the fact he went rigid under her touch. “I have to go, thank you so much! Merry Christmas!”

She left the classroom in a hurry, leaving a confused looking Snape in her wake. She didn’t look where she was going since she knew the way out of the castle like the back of her hands and she almost hurtled into Dumbledore on her way out.

“It worked Professor!” She grabbed the old headmaster with both hands, almost whooping with glee. She placed a firm kiss on his cheek before letting go of him and backing out of the Entrance Hall.

“I don’t know what you mean, Miss Granger. Have a lovely Christmas!” The Headmaster had the decency to look confused, but the mischievous glint in his eye told Hermione a different story. She ran up the drive, cursing how long it was where once she used to enjoy the stroll up to the gates. 

As she moved, she fished her wand out of her robe pockets. The Christmas air was cold and despite her thick cloak, she could feel the snow permeating against her skin but she did not care. She just needed to get to Ron; until she saw him again she wouldn’t allow herself to completely believe she had succeeded. She needed to hear his confirmation; she only hoped he was as happy to see her.

She finally reached the outskirts of the castle grounds, taking a moment to catch her breath as she tried to decide where to look for him first; the Burrow or Grimmauld Place. Once her decision was finally made, she turned on the spot quickly, hoping she got it right.

~*~

Christmas at the Burrow was always a cacophony of sound and an explosion of wrapping paper. Most of the family assaulted their presents, tearing at the paper to see the goodies underneath; apart from Percy who preferred to open his carefully, folding back the material painfully slow. Ron’s mum had thrust a bacon sandwich into his hands as soon as he’d arrived, but it hadn’t helped his hangover. His concentration was slipping so badly, his brother Charlie had even beaten him at chess - something unheard of in the Weasley household.

Desperate for a break from the ongoing circus before he lost the plot completely, Ron excused himself from the room; quickly wrapping his scarf around his neck and pulling his coat on before heading into the garden. At first, he gravitated towards the small bench which had provided him countless hours of peace and quiet over the years but as soon as he laid eyes on it, he realised it had been tainted with the memories of his kiss with Hermione and he couldn’t handle sitting there; at least not right now.

Instead, he pushed himself further down the garden, traversing the large yard with his long strides until he could no longer see the Burrow. He let the thick snow swallow him up, settling on the garden wall when he finally got to it and looking back up towards the white nothingness, in the direction of the house. He wiped a tear away from his cheek frustratedly.

~*~

As soon as Hermione got back to Grimmauld Place, she knew she’d made the wrong choice. Kreacher had answered the door, a small Santa hat perched on his head, with a sympathetic glance. She decided to search the house anyway just in case Ron was hiding in one of the many rooms and hadn’t told the elf, but he was nowhere to be found. She stopped when she got to the bedroom she’d been sleeping in, remembering that Ginny had left her an outfit for Christmas Day. Realising her standard black dress was inadequate for the inevitable party at the Burrow, and properly massively unappealing for Ron, she quickly got changed, pulling on instead another fantastically cosy jumper and a pair of tight denim jeans. Immediately, she felt more comfortable and able to carry on her mission with a lot more conviction.

Finding her wand amongst the material of her discarded dress on the bed; she took a deep breath and apparated again, this time to the Burrow.

She arrived at the end of the short lane that led up to the front of the house, immediately feeling the warmth radiating from the building. Every light was on, despite the fact it was only midday, and music and laughter spilt from every window. Despite how friendly the family had been yesterday; she didn’t feel right just wandering in through their back door. She was grateful for the extra layers she’d put on when she got to Grimmauld Place as the snow started to fall thicker around her. Unwilling to wait any longer, she took a deep breath then rang the doorbell.

Harry lifted his head from the Barbie Dreamhouse he was currently helping Bill put together for his 8-year-old daughter, a frown appearing on his face.

“Harry, that’s not the right place for that sticker…” Bill tutted at his brother-in-law impatiently. Bill’s daughter was a delight, but just like her part-Veela wife Fleur; had held a magic spell over her father since the day she was born. Anything short of perfect would not do as far as Victoire was concerned. “Why the fuck can’t we just use magic to build this thing?!”

Harry turned his attention to the front door before casting his eyes around the room, tallying the bodies. Everyone was accounted for, as far as he was aware, and although Molly and Arthur usually extended the Christmas Day invite to most of the British magical community, they weren’t expecting anyone else to join them.

“You do it then mate, I’m going to go answer the door since nobody else in this house can!” Harry shoved the huge sheet of stickers into Bill’s unexpecting hands before peeling himself off the floor. He weaved his way through the prone bodies scattered across the living room and eventually made it to the front door, yanking it open. His eyes grew wide as he saw who was waiting on the other side.

“Hermione! You came back!” He looked at the witch, stunned as the rest of the Weasley siblings scrambled to their feet, the sound of Hermione’s name forcing them into action. They exchanged knowing glances and smiles between them in the way that only close families could as they crowded around Harry, as happy as him to see the time-travelling witch on their front door step.

Hermione cast her eye over the group excitedly, but the one person she was desperate to see didn’t seem to be there.

“Uhm hi everyone… is Ron here?”

“He went out for a walk…” At least three Weasleys spoke at the same time, then Ginny pushed her way to the front of the group. “I don’t think he went far, he’s probably around the back…”

“Oh, okay. Thanks, everyone!” Hermione started to turn, but she was stopped by Ginny’s voice again.

“Hermione?” Ginny waited for the witch to turn her attention back to her. “We’re glad you came back…” She gave Hermione her biggest, reassuring smile. “Good luck!”

“Thanks… I think…” Although still horrifically nervous, Hermione felt boosted by Ginny’s kind words and quickly moved around the side of the house to get to the garden. She had no doubt that the rest of the family were probably racing through the downstairs to get to the backdoor to watch what happened next and the thought filled her with joy. She’d love to be a part of this extremely large, incredibly nosey, and noisy family and the thought that she may have already been accepted, despite her short time in this period was reassuring instead of off-putting.

She headed into the garden, looking first to the bench where she and Ron had sat last night and shared a kiss, but it was empty so she carried down further.

Ron sighed heavily. He was starting to get cold and moping outside was doing nothing to improve his mood. He pushed himself off the wall, shoving his hands into the pocket of his jeans to keep them warm before slowly wandering back to the house.

Hermione stopped in her tracks as soon as she laid eyes on him. Her heart was pounding, and she resisted the urge to just throw herself at him; he looked so sad, she felt his pain deep down in her soul and she desperately wanted to make him feel better.

“So I wasted all that Christmas Cheer for nothing then?”

Ron stopped walking suddenly as the familiar voice reached his ears and lifted his head quickly from where he had been watching his feet drudge a path in the thick snow. He felt as if every breath had deserted him as his eyes finally settled on her; her head of curls catching the snowflakes as they fell and her cheeks turning rosy red from the cold.

“You’re here?” He could barely believe it and he quickly took the few steps forward to close the gap between them. He just had to make sure she was real, and reached out with gloved fingertips to trace over her cheek and across the thin bridge of her nose, evoking a giggle from her. “How?”

“I made it back to my time; it turns out you were the person I was meant to help find Christmas Cheer and when I saw you wrestling with your nephews, I knew you had found it. But in helping you, I realised I didn’t belong to my time. I had never felt like I’d fitted it; not really and when I woke up back in 1892, I felt miserable. I had to come back to where I belonged…”

“And is this where you really belong? Hermione, you’re from another time. We’ve barely known each other three days…”

“Oh…” She stepped away from him, her heart pounding with the realisation that she may have made the wrong decision and effectively messed up her life for good. “Do you not want me here?”

“No, wait, that’s not what I meant!” He scowled at himself and cursed under his breath. He was no good at this stuff and was absolutely ruining this moment. He let out a puff of air and ran a hand through his long hair then down through his beard. “It’s bloody brilliant that you’re back, I just can’t believe that you’re here. It’s just… wow!”

A wide grin emerged on her face, and she stepped towards him once more. She felt his hand cup her cheek and she rested her head against his palm, feeling relief at the warming sensation that radiated even through the material of his glove. She leaned in towards him stopping just before her lips touched his.

“Then do something about it…” Her grin turned into a wicked smirk although her voice was barely above a whisper.

Ron could feel her warm breath against his cheek as it sent all the blood circulating around his body south. He didn’t even need to think twice as he finally captured her lips with his in a kiss that so was soft and sweet and everything he’d been dreaming of since they last kissed yesterday. He moved his other hand up to her face, sliding his fingers into her hair and pulled her closer to him. He brushed his thumb against her cheek, not thinking that it could get any better until she slid both arms around his waist and settled against his chest, the warmth of her body telling him that she was really there and that this was real.

When they finally parted, he rested his forehead against hers; his thumb still stroking it’s pattern against her cheek. He could hear his family clapping and whooping from the back door and he rolled his eyes, though it didn’t knock the soppy grin from his face.

“Merry Christmas, Hermione…” He gazed down at her, still unbelieving that she was there.

“Merry Christmas, Ron!” She kissed him again and everything was alright in the world; she knew that this was where she was meant to stay and that she’d made the right decision. This was home.


End file.
